<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Wicked Games by loveyou-x3000 (Severa), Severa</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703876">Wicked Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severa/pseuds/loveyou-x3000'>loveyou-x3000 (Severa)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severa/pseuds/Severa'>Severa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wicked Games [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(almost office sex), (some action), Action &amp; Romance, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Better Than Fifty Shades of Grey, Bondage, Control Kink, Dom/sub, Drama &amp; Romance, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Inu no Taisho POV, Light BDSM, Office Sex, Romance, Rope Bondage, Wicked Games AU, if InuYasha never existed in the feudal era, if Toga never met Izayoi in the past, if Toga survived Ryukotsusei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:20:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severa/pseuds/loveyou-x3000, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severa/pseuds/Severa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a human woman comes and asks the Inu no Taisho to submit, he finds himself surprisingly willing to concede to her wishes.</p><p>A Modern AU with a BDSM twist.</p><p>
  <em>Best NSFW, Feudal Connection Awards, Q1 2021</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Inu no Taishou/Izayoi, Inu no Taishou/Sesshoumaru's Mother, Kagura/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wicked Games [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40heavenin--hell">@heavenin--hell</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>WARNING!!!: This story contains a dom/sub dynamic, BDSM lifestyle elements, bondage, rope bondage, light femdom, suspension, edging/orgasm denial, light office/work exhibition, toy play, and control kinks. In later chapters, sexual abuse from a past relationship is discussed (not described; chapters will have trigger warnings). There's brief graphic violence included in an action sequence in Chapter 8. If any of these things make you feel uncomfortable, please turn back now!</strong>
</p><p>
<br/>
<span class="small">  <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/9ac6454ec42d86ac8be0f82cda91a422/9e45729c4398bcf4-06/s640x960/b89a2e773bd912d6dd7af15ecc9108c0ea13dae0.jpg">art</a> by <a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/">@heavenin--hell</a></span>
</p><p>And we're here! Welcome to Wicked Games! This was my 2020 NaNoWriMo project, inspired by the an <a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/post/631363727256649728/wicked-games-inuparents-modern-au">original concept by @heavenin--hell.</a> All the chapters were posted at the same time, so you probably won't see another substantial author's note from me until the end. But please let me know what you think as you go along! I'm open to critiques and criticism, especially because this is my first time writing something this... intense.</p><p>FYI - This story uses a custom skin, so make sure you don't have it disabled! It may look a little strange if you do.

</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing particularly notable about the gala. Nor the one before it, or the one before that. In any setting and in any context, however necessary, human gatherings were a bore, and Toga loathed every one he was duty-bound to attend.</p><p>The only thing that made them worthwhile was a particularly entrancing human woman who liked to like to flit around the edges of his world, weaving herself in and out of conversations that were always just adjacent to his own.</p><p>Sometimes, although rarely, they would speak. She would smile, adorned in glittering jewelry and finely tailored dresses, and say something soft or clever aside to him. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t much care to know it, honestly. Whoever she was, she wasn’t a part of his circle and was therefore unimportant. She was temporary. The galas would continue on, life and death would keep turning, and she would disappear just the same as all her other human peers. They would die and he would live on to suffer their successors.</p><p><em>But, </em>he considered. She<em> was </em>beautiful. Stunning, really.</p><p>And then one clever comment led to another and he was inviting her away, into his car, pulling her into the dark, not even bothering to pretend at starting the engine. They carved out a place for her in his mind, however closed off, where she could live forever in his eternity. There he intended her to stay. Just another secret, another woman. A tryst likely never to be revisited.</p><p>Until, long after she was gone, he learned her name.</p><p>
<em>Izayoi. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Non-Disclosure Agreement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Non-disclosure agreements were not foreign to him.</p>
<p>On the morning after, an email notification pinged his phone, interrupting the dreary light of early dawn. The Inu no Taisho was already wide awake, sitting in his office long before others would begin to mill about the halls, fielding panicked emails from various government officials. He didn’t know when the path of conquest had become the path of the diplomat, and when he had begun studying law and treatises over war, but it was on days like these that he found himself missing the art of settling disputes in blood instead of ink. His claws drummed idly against the heavy wood of his desk as his gaze flicked away from the disputes chronicled in his inbox, welcoming the distraction from the trivialities that haunted him every day. </p>
<p>The body of the message in his personal account was blank, a single document attached under the subject line: </p>
<p>      <em>If you would.</em></p>
<p>Toga smirked, glanced at the document name - <em>NDA2.pdf</em> - and checked the origin address, though he already knew who it was. He wasn’t surprised that she’d reached out, but he couldn’t remember giving her his personal email address. Perhaps she’d stolen a business card from one of her father’s friends. Either way, she clearly knew who he was now, the same as he knew her.</p>
<p>He would’ve been more surprised if she <em>hadn’t</em> tracked him down. </p>
<p>Without looking at the document, he answered her non-disclosure agreement with one of his own for her to sign, sending off the request with the soft swishing sound of the app’s design. </p>
<p>      <em>Of course. </em></p>
<p>It wasn’t the first time he’d signed a non-disclosure agreement after a tryst and it likely wouldn’t be the last. The social circles of the rich and so-called elite were particularly unforgiving, no matter the subject, and people would go to great lengths to protect their privacy. To do that, it was safest to hide behind contracts and signatures, hanging the threat of legal action over the heads of those that could break your confidence. Daiyokai as he was, human women were often invested in keeping their shared activities discreet, so receiving these requests was as natural as the events that had prompted them.  </p>
<p>Still, every agreement was tailored to the person issuing it, and he’d never been one to sign a legal document blindly. He thumbed open the attachment and began to scroll, glancing over the contents with practiced ease. It seemed the standard fare for these matters: promises to keep their affairs secret, to refrain from contacting family or members of the press, to relinquish and destroy any media related to their brief relationship— etcetera. </p>
<p>What caught his attention, though, was a single phrase nestled away in the definitions clause, hidden among the specifics of what was deemed confidential.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>...For purposes of this Agreement, “Confidential Information” shall include all information, whether intangible or embodied or depicted in tangible form, including without limitation documents, emails, “instant messages,” text messages, contracts, correspondence, faxes, tapes, CD-Roms, USB flash drives, SIM cards, photographs, negatives, moving or still images, audio or video recordings, magnetic or electronic data, digital recordings, and any other format or embodying information or data:  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>1.1.1     The information disclosed in the document “Negotiables and Non-Negotiables,” and all discussions related to that content, is subject to reasonable efforts to maintain its secrecy…</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He stared at the phrase, completely unfamiliar with it.  </p>
<p>“Negotiables and non-negotiables?” he repeated to himself, flicking back into his email to see if he’d missed a secondary attachment. He hadn’t, of course, so he thumbed his way back, scrolling down to the end of the document. Included below the last page, beneath the ending signatures that would commit him to the contract, was a separate document, lacking all the bureaucratic flair of the former. It was far simpler: an emboldened header resting on top of a structured list that blocked down for three more pages. </p>
<p><em>Negotiables and Non-Negotiables, </em>he read, and then below that, <em>Expectations for the submissive include:</em>— </p>
<p>His brain stuttered, sputtered, and fell silent.</p>
<p>After an hour of staring at the document, trying to comprehend its purpose, his assistant knocked on the door and nearly startled him out of his chair.</p><hr/>
<p>When she returned his completely-normal-and-incredibly-uninteresting-NDA later that evening, formally stamped and dated in all the proper ways, he managed to type out a response. </p>
<p>      <em>We should meet. I’d prefer to return yours personally.</em></p>
<p>Hers, after all, required both parties to ratify it. His had only required her agreement.</p>
<p>A few moments later, she responded. </p>
<p>      <em>Drinks? </em></p>
<p>She included the address of a bar below her invitation and he gave it a cursory review, recognizing the name. </p>
<p>      <em>Meet you at six.  </em></p><hr/>
<p>At six o’clock, while sitting with her at the bar, he learned that the file she’d sent him had been the wrong copy. To say she was embarrassed was an understatement. Izayoi, dressed as elegantly as she always was, sat beside him at the bar, swirling her martini and staring intently at the olive speared in her drink.</p>
<p>“I am so sorry,” she said again, apologizing, and Toga chuckled. “...I guess I need to rename that file.” </p>
<p>“I think you might.”  </p>
<p>Clear LED bulbs that pretended to be incandescent glowed above their heads, hung across the ceiling in the modern, exposed design that seemed to be taking over as the popular norm. The establishment was discreet, the few windows it had lined with heavy curtains to give the occupants some privacy, and there were plenty of people milling about— human and yokai alike. There were many similar establishments all over the world; modern speak-easys that didn’t discriminate, and its patrons didn’t pry or interrupt. What was said here, stayed here, and if it didn’t… </p>
<p>Well, there were always consequences to be paid. </p>
<p>“Can I ask you about it?” he wondered softly, keeping his voice respectfully low to match the ambient buzz of conversation. Toga seemed to fit in naturally beside her, well-dressed and even better looking as he nursed an amber drink he hardly seemed to touch. </p>
<p>Her fingernails, polished red to match her dress, slid around the rim of her glass before she took another drink, considering that. His gaze lingered over her as he waited, thoughts tugging back to their shared night together. She’d been beautiful then and she was beautiful now, glowing softly underneath the dim, golden lights. He was trailing the waterfall of her hair with his eyes when she spoke, but he managed to keep himself from looking distracted. </p>
<p>“Maybe,” she decided. “Depends on the question.” </p>
<p>“I’m merely curious,” he said, trying for a soothing tone. She had no reason to worry; her secrets were safe to him, whether or not they were included in an NDA. “It’s not every day I see something new.” </p>
<p>This seemed to pique her interest. She finally pulled her gaze away from her drink, studying him intensely. </p>
<p>“New?” she wondered. He nodded. </p>
<p>“A contract has never been,” he chose his words carefully, not wanting to misstep, “an <em>element</em> in any of my relationships. Not in this manner, anyway.” </p>
<p>She made a face, nose wrinkling slightly like he’d said something offensive. But it didn’t last and it had been soft to begin with, lacking the commitment with which it needed to survive. </p>
<p>“Contract is an awful word,” she insisted, twisting in her seat to face him, leaning her elbow against the bar and resting her head in her palm. </p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow at her, the expression of practiced curiosity. “Why?” </p>
<p>“It’s not that they don’t work for some, but I prefer something… less structured,” she tipped her head further into her palm as she thought, a few locks of her hair spilling over around her arm, “The list is just a beginning. Something to help establish communication and boundaries, and, well.” She shook her head, remembering herself as she straightened back up and dropped her hand back down to her drink. “You understand.” </p>
<p>He wasn’t sure he did. </p>
<p>“And this is normal, for you?” </p>
<p>She hummed, shrugging. “Everyone else’s normal is overrated.” </p>
<p>They were silent for a moment. Izayoi watched him through the dim light, studying him, swirling her drink idly. He let her, unbothered by the scrutiny and wondering what she wanted to say. The question behind her eyes was budding, but he couldn’t read her; all he knew was that whatever she wanted to ask, she hadn’t decided if she wanted to say it yet. </p>
<p>“...What’s your normal?” she asked instead, and Toga found himself sighing. He shrugged, carding his fingers back through his short hair in a show of disinterest. </p>
<p>“Everyone else’s, I suppose.” </p>
<p>She smiled, waited a beat, and then asked, “You never wanted to try anything new?” </p>
<p>There it was.  </p>
<p>But before he could answer, she was sliding off her stool, standing with a soft <em>click</em> of her heels on the ground. </p>
<p>“Give me your phone.” </p>
<p>Staring at her, a little surprised by the ease at which she was telling him to do things - no one did that, not unless they had a crescent moon in the middle of their forehead and an ego too large for the country to contain - he reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew his phone, handing it to her once it was unlocked. He didn’t have to ask to know what she was doing. </p>
<p>“Look it over again, if you like,” she offered, thumbs dancing across the soft light beneath her fingers. “Think about it. If you’re interested.” </p>
<p>She held his phone back to him after a final purposeful tap on the screen, her number no doubt stowed away in his contacts. He took it with ease, his claws inadvertently brushing against her fingertips as he did. She didn’t so much as flinch. </p>
<p>“Text me.” </p>
<p>And then she was gone, flitting out of the bar before he could say goodbye. </p><hr/>
<p>Feet kicked up on his desk, Toga reclined heavily in his office chair, studying the clipboard in his hand. He fiddled with a pen in the other, staring at the heavy lines of text printed onto paper. </p>
<p>Was he really considering this? </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Expectations for the submissive include:…</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Submission, deference, honesty, and vulnerability— in short. </p>
<p>He tipped his head back against the rounded edge of the chair and sighed, trying to relax. Collar unbuttoned and tie hanging loose down his chest, completely undone, his throat lay free of its trappings and he tried to enjoy that small relief after a day of work. It wasn’t anything more than his usual dealings: debating over where laws applied and where they didn’t, who was beholden to what, where territory lines fell and so forth. But he’d been distracted, catching himself wandering back to thoughts of Izayoi. Considering her <em>expectations. </em></p>
<p>It had been a few days since they’d met and he’d done some research on the topic she had accidentally presented him with— or rather, the relationship, and the transactional dynamic that she seemed to prefer. </p>
<p><em>No</em>, he thought. <em>Not transactional. </em>It was… structured, maybe. Disciplined? Controlling? </p>
<p>He groaned and spun the pen in his hand again, fidgeting, closing his eyes. Whatever it was, it was new, and taking him off guard was no small accomplishment. </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The submissive shall disclose all relevant information pertaining to: personal contact information, social media accounts, work scheduling…</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>On one hand, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her. Their tryst was more than enough evidence of that, risky as it had been. They’d been dancing around each other for the last few months, attending the same events, sharing subtle glances and less subtle words, and when they’d finally reached a breaking point, they’d put the matter to bed, as it were. She was a beautiful woman and he had no complaints about her personality or passions, but now he wondered how much of that kind demure was a front. </p>
<p><em>That’s unfair, </em>he chided himself. It was presumptuous to assume her preferences had any standing on who she was, however briefly they’d known each other. </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The submissive shall make themselves available, whether physically or digitally, at any requested time. The submissive agrees to be of service in any possible way, within the terms agreed upon, to the desires of the Dominant. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He tried to consider the downsides of the arrangement, but he was having a difficult time justifying any of them. Every protest was easily discarded by the simple fact that she wasn’t the only one who was supposed to provide a list of…<em> guidelines</em>. From all that he could tell, the documents she’d enclosed weren't exclusively about rules; they were about boundaries. <em>Her</em> boundaries, plus all that she expected from her partner. He was meant to provide her with the same: his boundaries, his limits, and his ‘non-negotiables.’ </p>
<p>At worst, the only thing she could be accused of was being obscenely honest, whereas he was close to becoming a closed-minded coward. </p>
<p>He sighed and kicked his feet back to the ground, leaning forward and dropping the clipboard on his desk with a sharp <em>clack. </em>He kept twirling his pen between his fingers, flipping through the pages unnecessarily. He read over them all again, probably for the fortieth time in the last two hours. </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The submissive shall maintain an exclusive relationship with the Dominant, and agrees not to involve themselves, sexually or otherwise, with an outside party.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>There was nothing intrinsically wrong with anything she was proposing. It was only strange to him, because there had never been a time in his long life when someone challenging his authority had been anything but violent.  </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The submissive shall not touch, kiss, or be otherwise physically intimate with the Dominant without express consent; the submissive shall not orgasm without permission.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>She meant to forbid intimacy without permission, wanted to control specific aspects of his life, and desired for him to bend and submit and follow orders; there were systems of reward and punishment involved, outlining what was permissible in intimate moments and what wasn’t. Perhaps such concepts weren’t foreign to him — when he’d married so many years ago, they’d had their own fun, young and brilliant and powerful, binding each other, binding others between them, bleeding others dry — but the subjugation aspect certainly was. </p>
<p>If there had ever been a ruling party or a dominant force in any of his relationships, it would’ve been his role to fill because that was all he had ever known.  </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The submission shall regard the Dominant with respect, deference, and obedience at all times.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p><em>It’s interesting, </em>he admitted to himself, raking his hand through his bangs. A human woman trying to bring a daiyokai to his knees sounded ridiculous, even to him, but… <em>It’s new. </em></p>
<p>What harm could it do?  </p>
<p>Then, as if the universe were mocking him, he got a text. </p>
<p>
      <em>If you’re interested, meet me tomorrow. 8pm. Same place. </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>When Toga approached her at the bar, a ten scant minutes before the ticking clock turned its hands to twelve and eight, he made sure she hadn’t heard him coming and leaned in behind her. </p>
<p>“You know,” he drawled, watching her startle, delicate hand flexing on the glass of another martini. “Last time I checked, NDAs didn’t include a list of ‘negotiables’ about sex.” </p>
<p>She swiveled around in her barstool to face him, a twirl of indigo fabric and black hair, long earrings sparkling vividly underneath the dim light. The scent of her perfume wafted up to him, something floral and calming that pricked gently at his senses. </p>
<p>“You came,” she smiled, and Toga almost felt scandalized that she didn’t sound surprised. Almost. </p>
<p>“I did,” he said, able to veil his reaction behind a familiar, practiced mask.  </p>
<p>Izayoi tipped her head into her fingers, splayed elegantly against the side of her face with her elbow pinned against the bar. There was no denying her beauty, made only more striking by the knowledge that it was fleeting. Mortal. </p>
<p>“Then sit down,” she offered smoothly, gesturing to the stool behind him. “Let’s talk.” </p>
<p>“Here?” </p>
<p>“Does it make you uncomfortable?”  </p>
<p>He shrugged, still leaning. “Not particularly, but…” he glanced around, always observant, never one to let himself be taken off guard. “...it seems like a sensitive subject to discuss in public.” </p>
<p>“You have questions?” </p>
<p>“Yes.” </p>
<p>Again, she didn’t seem surprised in the slightest, only nodding.  </p>
<p>“Then let’s get a booth.” </p>
<p>“Yes,” he murmured, “Let's.” </p><hr/>
<p>Once they were situated, requesting a space in the far corner of the establishment and paying the hostesses well to keep the surrounding area unoccupied, Izayoi waited, leaning back in her seat and leveling him with her gaze. </p>
<p>“Better?” she wondered. She still had her martini, swirling it idly before she set it down between them.  </p>
<p>He nodded. </p>
<p>“For the moment.” </p>
<p>He hadn’t noticed anyone listening in, but since he was with her undisguised that could change in a matter of moments. No demon of any rank would dare approach him in public without reason, but they’d all lend an ear if they thought he were up to something worth gossiping about. Discreet as this place might be, it didn’t protect him wholly from the cost of being who he was. </p>
<p>“You had questions?” Izayoi prompted.  </p>
<p>Forcing himself to shift his focus to the conversation at hand, he nodded again, leaving only a small portion of his attention to monitor their surroundings. </p>
<p>“I wondered,” he hedged, reaching inside his jacket pocket to withdraw a thin folder containing the documents they were meant to discuss. “What would you normally say to someone you presented this NDA to?” </p>
<p>She laughed gently, eyes sparkling against the dim light hanging over their heads.  </p>
<p>“On purpose, you mean?” </p>
<p>He smirked, placing the folder on the table and paging it open, leafing through the documents. </p>
<p>“I suppose.” </p>
<p>“Hm…” Izayoi genuinely considered the question, taking a drink as she thought. “In the past, my partners have been familiar with the scene, so I don’t know if I can give you the answer you’d like.” Leveling him with a calm gaze, he got the impression she was trying to read him. “Are you wondering why I prefer this?” </p>
<p>“Maybe,” he considered, but he’d never thought to ask that way. It seemed like an inappropriate question. “I’m not judging.” </p>
<p>“Neither am I.” A moment of silence lingered between them, stretching across the table and eventually snapping when it was pulled too tight, broken when she spoke again. “Don’t you think it’s better if you can start out on the same foot with someone? Go into a relationship already knowing their boundaries? Their preferences?” </p>
<p>“Perhaps.” </p>
<p>He supposed it wasn’t so different than marrying for politics or power. He’d done that himself, lifetimes ago. So many of his kind had.  </p>
<p>Except this wasn’t marriage. </p>
<p>“But the preferences themselves?” </p>
<p>She shrugged elegantly, brushing stray strands of her hair back over her shoulders where they belonged. “Merely preferences. I’ve always had them.” </p>
<p>So it had been a rude question to ask, after all. </p>
<p>“Do they make you uncomfortable?” she asked softly. </p>
<p>“No. They’re… different, is all.” He took her list in hand and reviewed it again, even though he was already familiar with every part— every limit, every demand, and every hard stop. “Unfamiliar. I don’t know if I’d enjoy them.” </p>
<p>“But you want to try,” she understood. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” </p>
<p>“No. I wouldn’t be.” </p>
<p>She leaned forward, attending him more directly, giving him the respect of her attention. But she didn’t say anything, watching him instead of speaking her mind. Toga got the impression she was waiting for something, but as he was unable to decipher what exactly her expectations were, he simply spoke his mind. </p>
<p>“Still. This document isn’t quite what I was led to expect.”  </p>
<p>“Oh? What did you expect?” </p>
<p>“Something more formal, maybe.” </p>
<p>“Ah,” she nodded, seeming to understand. “I can change the format, if you want.” </p>
<p>He shook his head. “I only wondered why yours was different.” </p>
<p>From all the research he’d done, it seemed that those who enjoyed relationships of this caliber often utilized pseudo-legal documents to define their roles. The content varied from contract to contract, but they read as close to a professional draft as most amateurs could manage. Izayoi’s, however, was simply a list of expectations and rules, matched with non-negotiable limits and forbidden activities. There was a certain vagueness to her words, though he supposed the reason was in the title— everything was negotiable. </p>
<p>“Because what I want is not quite the same,” she answered, thoughtful. “I don’t have any desire to be anyone’s master.” </p>
<p>“Yet you desire control. Authority.” </p>
<p>She nodded. “Yes.” </p>
<p>That, at least, was something he understood. </p>
<p>“Did you write your own list?” she asked after a moment, unabashedly curious. </p>
<p>“I did.” </p>
<p>He paged through the documents, pulling out the one in question from the bottom and sliding it across the table to her. He knew it was sparse even before she picked it up, but didn’t mention anything to that end, just watching her as she reviewed it. Izayoi politely said nothing all the while, expression composed into something professional and respectful as she read. </p>
<p>Eventually, she asked a question. </p>
<p>“Your eyes can turn red?” </p>
<p>Her tone changed. She was openly interested, regarding his written limits with a glittering sort of curiosity. </p>
<p>“Ah,” he responded numbly, only because he hadn’t expected that to the point she stuck on. “Yes. This isn’t my natural form.” </p>
<p>“So they turn when you change?” she gathered. </p>
<p>“Before. During.” </p>
<p>Izayoi nodded, eyes tracing across the page. She seemed to understand. “Okay.” </p>
<p>They shared another moment of silence as she reviewed them again, scarce as they might be. He hadn’t known exactly what to put, being overall content with the rules implied inside her boundaries and expressed in her expectations, and had only decided to include a few non-negotiables that were, in fact, non-negotiable. </p>
<p>There would be no speaking to, seeing, or contacting his son— or anyone in relation to him, for that matter, including Sesshomaru’s Mother. No prying into his politics or business, no interfering in public matters. Items with purification properties were off the table; there would be no using barriers or seals, demonic or otherwise. Practicing birth control was a requirement. </p>
<p>But, above all else, if his eyes were to turn red, for any reason at all, she was to drop all pretense and get as far away from him as she possibly could. </p>
<p>“I might have to do some research on some of these items,” she admitted softly. “I’m not familiar. But all of this is fine.” Izayoi let the paper fall back to the table, discreetly face-down. “Are you sure that’s all you want to start with? We can add as we go along, of course, but…” </p>
<p>“I didn’t find any issues with your requests or limits,” he said, in a way of answering, “There’s no point in being repetitive.” </p>
<p>“I see.” </p>
<p>She shifted thoughtfully in her seat, pushing her hair behind her ear. Her earrings glimmered softly as they swayed.  </p>
<p>“If that’s the case, we should set a safe word now. Something you can say if you do discover yourself reaching a limit. That is...” she emphasized, not wanting to get too far ahead of herself, “If we’re doing this?” </p>
<p>He nodded. However, she hesitated.</p>
<p>“I do have one other question, though, before that.” </p>
<p>“Go ahead.” </p>
<p>“Your son’s mother,” Izayoi inquired, trying very clearly not to pry. “I don’t prefer my partners to be in outside relationships. Or, rather…” she tilted her head, watching him carefully, “I don’t allow it.” </p>
<p>Toga hummed shortly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat. He supposed it wasn’t strange she was asking. </p>
<p>“Platonic,” he explained tersely, not wanting to elaborate on the details. “Our union is still recognized in demon society, but we haven’t been together since…” he tried to think back, calling on old memories, on old homes, “...the Warring States Era?” </p>
<p>By the look on her face, she hadn’t expected that answer. He smirked, leaning forward again. </p>
<p>“I can’t do anything about our partnership. You understand." </p>
<p>The concept of divorce wasn’t recognized in his world, simply because it wasn’t needed. There was only who you had and sometimes, who you’d have next. If you grew tired of your partner, you merely parted ways; there was no undoing the fact that you were bound by blood or property or legacy. It varied by race, of course, but for him that was exactly how it was. He had married and there was no unmarrying. Only mutually parting ways.</p>
<p>Izayoi nodded. “All right.” </p>
<p>“The word, then?” </p>
<p>“The papers,” she corrected. </p>
<p>“Of course.” </p>
<p>The clock began to tick down, both in his mind and on the wall. But he didn’t think overly much about what he was doing— about how he pulled out a sleek, formal <em>hanko </em>stamp from within his jacket and popped off the cap, or how he took her contract in front of him and paged through to the back. The clock ticked the same as his heart beat, the same as his stamp rose and steadily fell, imprinting the crest of his house in blood-red ink on her papers.</p>
<p>If there was one thing the Inu no Taisho could be accused of, even if only on occasion, it was recklessness. Perhaps his years had tempered his behavior somewhat, but in the face of something new, it was hard to consider rejection. Why not try it? Why not conquer it? Why not take it as his own and claim himself the master of something new? </p>
<p>Except he could do very little of that in this case, and perhaps that was what made it so tempting. </p>
<p>His crest stamped - his fate sealed - Toga pushed the papers over to his new partner, tucking away his stamp and watching her withdraw her own from the depths of her purse. Izayoi smiled, taking her time inking the wooden stamp.</p>
<p>“It’s a relationship,” she reminded him. “Just you and I.” </p>
<p><em>Not just sex, </em>he knew she meant, even if he didn’t fully understand. All of this was sex. </p>
<p>“Just you and I,” he repeated. She nodded. </p>
<p>Then Izayoi stamped her name below his, set her insignia aside, and the game began. </p>
<p>“Indigo,” she decided, and Toga didn’t need to be led to understand. </p>
<p>“Indigo it is.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><strong>Art!</strong><br/><a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/post/631363727256649728/wicked-games-inuparents-modern-au">Wicked Games</a> by @heavenin--hell (original story concept / source of inspiration)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Starting Slow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  With the papers formalized, Toga found himself waiting. 
</p><p>
  He wasn’t sure what to expect until an email pinged in his inbox the following morning, lighting up his phone as he leaned over his kitchen counter and picked at a bland morning meal, more invested in his coffee than he was the meat. Blinking and recognizing her name on the screen, he swiped the notification open and took a sip from his mug, curious. 
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
  <em>
    STARTING SLOW... 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Text me good morning when you wake up. Text me good night when you go to sleep. It doesn’t matter what time it is.  
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Between good morning and good night, respond when I text you. Promptly. If I ask for a photo, take one of something where you are. Try your best if I ask for something specific. 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Between good night and good morning is your time. Enjoy it. 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    If you need to break, use our safe word. 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Have your secretary share your schedules with me. 
  </em>
</p>
  <p><em>Thinking of you, </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em>Izayoi </em></p>
</blockquote><p>
  He read over the message a few times, a little confused by it. It seemed… easy. Too easy. He tried to find a hint in it somewhere, a trap he was designed to fall into, but there was none. There was only a strange vagueness around the word ‘promptly,’ which might’ve been intentional, but it didn’t strike him as a calculated move. 
</p><p>
  Still, not wanting to risk it, he responded. 
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
  <em>
    RE: STARTING SLOW… 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Promptly? 
  </em>
</p>
</blockquote><p>
  He paused before sending it, however, trying to decide if it was worth attaching his signature to. She’d enclosed a personalized one, but he wasn’t sure if matching it would be appropriate— and even if it were, it didn’t feel right.  
</p><p>
  He cracked the knuckles of his other hand, considering the subject for an embarrassingly long moment. It had been too long since he’d had to navigate something this unfamiliar, but he wasn’t exactly upset at the challenge. That there weren’t lives on the line was a welcome change. 
</p><p>
  Eventually, he settled on 
  <em>
    Yours, Toga, 
  </em>
  and sent the message away with a tap, setting down his phone to return to his coffee. 
</p><p>
  His phone dinged only a few seconds later and he was lifting it before the vibrations stopped, examining her response. 
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
  <em>
    RE:RE: STARTING SLOW… 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Within fifteen minutes. 
  </em>
</p>
  <p>
  <em>
    Thank you for asking. 
  </em>
</p>
  <p><em>Thinking of you,</em><em><br/>
</em> <em>Izayoi </em></p>
</blockquote><p>
  He closed the application, deciding against responding there, and swiped through into his text messages. 
</p><p>
      <em>Good morning. </em>
</p><p>
  He got a response almost immediately, the chat conversation nudging upwards with a yellow emoji sun and a shining red heart. 
</p><p>
  Their rhythm began so easily that Toga didn’t even notice it start. 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  The nuances of this first game established themselves fairly quickly. 
</p><p>
  First, Toga discovered that Izayoi was a chronic abuser of emojis, and, thankfully, she didn’t expect him to respond to them. She used them as no-obligation responses, acknowledging whatever he’d said with cherry-picked images. In the mornings, she greeted his good mornings with various sun-themed sprites and red hearts; at night, if she was still awake - which wasn’t often, since he seemed to stay up much later than she did - she sent moons or stars matched with black hearts.  
</p><p>
  When she asked for photos, she usually responded with some topic-adjacent emoji once she received it. He discovered very quickly that she didn’t care what the photo featured— it could be his floor or his thumb for all she cared, and he found himself growing steadily more conscious of the images he was sending. What was at first awkward photos of his desk or whatever was close by quickly changed to thoughtful snapshots of his life. By the end of the week he found himself taking pictures of what he was doing, what he was eating, and even sometimes of himself, though he always obscured his face. 
</p><p>
  He was learning her language of emojis fast, and soon found himself trying to translate her opinions through the little images. Toga found it all incredibly endearing, not even realizing what she was doing,  
</p><p>
  Five days of scattered texts and images later, she called him just as he’d arrived home for the night and closed the door behind him - she had his schedule, she knew when he would be home - and he answered without thinking. 
</p><p>
  “Hello?” 
</p><p>
  “Hello.” Izayoi’s voice was soft and gentle, not demanding anything of him but his attention. His claws twitched around the sleek edge of his phone, wondering why she’d called. 
</p><p>
  “How are you?” he decided to ask, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it on the back of the couch before rounding the armrest to sit. Leather upholstery slid beneath him as he slipped his claw in the knot of his tie and tugged, freeing himself of the stiff fabric. 
</p><p>
  “I’m fine,” she answered. He listened to the ambient noise in her background, trying to pick out any details. There weren’t any worth noting. “I just wanted to call.” 
</p><p>
  “Oh?” he wondered, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.  
</p><p>
  “To see how you were doing.” It was a genuine sentiment. He thought he could hear her smile. “How was your day?” 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  Sometimes, she texted him questions he couldn’t make sense of, entirely trivial in manner. 
</p><p>
      <em>
    What shampoo do you use? 
  </em>
</p><p>
      <em>
    Sweatpants or pajamas?
  </em>
</p><p>
      <em>
    What do demons eat for breakfast?
  </em>
</p><p>He would always tell her, quickly learning there was no point in wondering about her reasoning. It was incredibly easy to become complacent when it came to her curiosities. They were endless and he was more than happy to satisfy them.   </p><p>
      <em>
    Tell me about the dragons. 
  </em>
</p><p>
      <em>
    Tell me about your past. 
  </em>
</p><p>
      <em>
    Tell me about you. 
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  Six days after he had stamped the documents that now seemed to have very little relevance over his life, Izayoi texted him and gently nudged their boundaries forward. 
</p><p>
      <em>
    Meet me for dinner. Wear something red. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  The address came next, complete with a reservation number and time.  
</p><p>
  And then, a few moments later:
</p><p>
      <em>
    More crimson than scarlet.
  </em>
</p><p>
  So he went. 
</p><p>
  It wasn’t as simple as merely going, however; the address she sent him was a restaurant of little discretion, often frequented by the rich and powerful and those who would name themselves celebrities. The restaurant itself would likely pose no problem, as these establishments were often politely and quietly managed. But entering the building could be an issue. It was a popular place for the paparazzi. He would be recognized and the oddity of his appearance would only bring scrutiny. The Inu no Taisho did not frequent… anywhere, honestly. 
</p><p>
  He wondered if Izayoi had accounted for that, but wouldn’t hedge his bets on it. When he dressed to her desires - dark slacks and shoes, a crimson button-up beneath a black jacket - he took in hand his concealment charm from the long table situated near the entryway. 
</p><p>
  It looked the same as any omamori charm that might be found at a shrine or a temple, though it was markedly different in its purpose. Where most were meant to bring good luck, fortune, or a plethora of other forms of protection, the ones that could be found around the necks of yokai had one purpose alone: to conceal or rearrange their features into that of a normal human being’s. There were few left with the spiritual capabilities to create such items, but Toga always made certain to retain those who could. For one such as himself, the effectiveness of the charms wore down fast. It was merely an illusion, a barrier that could be eaten away quickly by his yoki. 
</p><p>
  All it took was one angry snap and the illusion could break.
</p><p>
  But tonight was not a time to consider such worries. Toga pulled the black brocaded charm down around his head and shoved it well away inside his shirt, concealing it from view. 
</p><p>
  In an instant, the world was muffled. He curled his yoki away deep inside himself, restraining his dark, natural power so that it didn’t eat away at the pure spiritual energy concealing his demonic features. He didn’t need to see his reflection to know that he was now bare-skinned and black haired, eyes toned down to grey beneath dark eyelashes. In essence, he had become an entirely different man.  
</p><p>
  It was that man who arrived exactly on time to dinner and accidentally startled the living daylights out of Izayoi.  
</p><p>
  She was waiting for him in the lobby when he stepped inside the restaurant, having been largely ignored by the thicket of cameras outside due to his appearance. Standing near the hostess’ table, she didn’t spare him more than a cursory glance over her shoulder and he smirked when she looked away, taking the opportunity to admire her now that she had decidedly ignored him.
</p><p>
  Red was the color of the night. The dress she wore was a few shades lighter than his shirt, closer to ruby than scarlet, but they certainly matched. Where she stood, he was blessed with the sight of her back, fully exposed by the fabric that dipped into a deep, smooth curve against the lowest stretch of her spine. Her dark hair was draped long over one shoulder, a few loose loops curving lower than the rest. In contrast to the swath of bare skin on her back, her arms and legs were completely covered by long sleeves and a low, sweeping hem, but he thought he could spot a hint of her leg through a high slit.  
</p><p>
  She was beautiful. She’d worn something much the same to the gala where they’d properly met, but that dress had been as black and glimmering as a starry night sky. He’d found one of those glittering gemstones in his car on the way here, in fact. It was burning a hole in his pocket. 
</p><p>
  So then, just for fun, he approached her from behind and leaned in over her shoulder just as he had at the bar.  
</p><p>
  “Do I not interest you?” 
</p><p>
  He didn’t touch her; he wasn’t that stupid. All it took was his proximity and his voice to make her start, tensing up in surprise as she whirled around to see the man she likely thought was trying to come onto her. Which he was, of course. She just didn’t realize who he was.  
</p><p>
  So he let a flash of yoki unfurl from its restraints, allowing a glimpse of copper-gold to flash across his grey irises. The concealment charm strained as etchings of indigo shot across his cheekbones, spreading like spiderweb veins, but then he hauled it all back, allowing everything to settle back into place. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi was breathless, staring up at him like she’d just witnessed something grand. Her jewelry glimmered softly under the amber lights in the lobby, eyes wide and glistening as she looked at him. 
</p><p>
  “Toga?” she asked. He smirked. 
</p><p>
  “The one and only.” 
</p><p>
  “But,” she blinked, eyebrows raised high as she looked him over. “You can…?” 
</p><p>
  “I couldn’t walk in here looking like myself, could I?” he murmured, just for her ears. “Unless you have something personal against my publicist?”  
</p><p>
  Izayoi laughed a little, though she still seemed taken off guard. Her gaze was appraising in nature, and her hands finally closed the distance between them as she smoothed out the front of his jacket. He watched her eyes flit over his chest, across the crimson fabric that he’d chosen for her.  
</p><p>
  “How?” she wondered. 
</p><p>
  “Let’s sit, first,” he suggested, not wanting to be overheard. There was a curious couple looking at them from across the small room, though their attention hardly seemed malicious.  
</p><p>
  “All right.” 
</p><p>
  So they did. 
</p><p>
  Toga slid into the private booth and Izayoi slipped in next to him, choosing to sit at his side rather than across the table. He was more than happy to welcome her closeness.  
</p><p>
  “Tell me,” she said, almost immediately. He smirked, blunt-toothed, and hooked his thumb under the thin cord around his neck, pulling it up until she could see a small hint of the charm hidden within his clothes. 
</p><p>
  “Concealment charm.” At her nod, he dropped it and let it slide safely out of sight again. “You’ve seen them before?” 
</p><p>
  “I’ve heard of them,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen one used.” 
</p><p>
  “Hm.”  
</p><p>
  “They’re not a seal, though? They just make you look human?” 
</p><p>
  “For the most part. It’s a barrier of reiki over yoki,” he explained. “It dulls the senses a bit. Not much else.” He draped his arm over the back of their seat, behind her shoulders. “Is that what you called me here to talk about? Seals and concealment charms?” 
</p><p>
  “What? I can’t ask you out on a date?” she asked, eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. Even sitting she was still so much shorter than him, merely half-a-head above his shoulder. 
</p><p>
  “We can do whatever you like,” he murmured. “I thought that was rather the point.” 
</p><p>
  She smiled and leaned over and up, slipping her hand around to the nape of his neck to pull him down for a soft kiss. It was their first since the papers had been handed and he’d be lying if he said he weren’t surprised by it
  — 
  by its smoothness and ease, its warmth and gentleness, but his shock didn’t make him any slower to let her have what she wanted. It was soft and brief, short and sweet, a gentle taste of gloss and lipstick before she was pulling away. 
</p><p>
  “You look nice,” she complimented, and he realized why exactly she had kissed him. 
</p><p>
  It was a reward. 
</p><p>
  “And you’re exquisite,” he returned, though he found himself a little surprised that she didn’t blush or swoon at the praise. She was quite different from all the other women he’d met in his life, though he supposed the only other significant one hadn’t been the type to play the fainting woman, either. She’d been partial to prodding him with her lavish paper fans at any hint of fondness, in fact. 
</p><p>
  “Thank you.” 
</p><p>
  Izayoi moved in closer to him and reached up to pull his arm down around her, allowing his touch, and took the wine list in hand. 
</p><p>
  “What do you like?” she wondered, and their date began. 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  She picked a bottle of wine she preferred - which was acceptable to his taste, at least - and they ordered. She ate while he picked at his food, abandoning the meal after consuming only just enough not to draw anyone’s attention. He preferred raw meats to any of the strange designs humans consumed, and would sooner be found hunting deer in the forest that ordering willingly from a menu that didn’t contain raw options. Of all the human meals that had ever been forced upon him, sushi was the only acceptable one, purely on the principle that it was uncooked by nature.
</p><p>
  Here, there were few such options. But even if there had been, he couldn’t partake while masquerading as a human. He was telling Izayoi as much, musing idly over the fact that his son had the exact opposite opinion as him when they were interrupted.
</p><p>
  The buzz of his phone, left facedown on the table in front of them, halted their discussion. He checked it only because there were very few people that would call him at this hour, fully intending to silence it. But the name on the screen gave him pause. 
</p><p>
  “It’s Sesshomaru,” he said. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi had never moved so quickly. Whatever she had been saying died on her lips and she pulled away from him, slipping out of his hold before he could so much as open his mouth to say anything else. 
</p><p>
  “I’ll go freshen up,” was her excuse and then she was gone, leaving him alone and bereft at the table. 
</p><p>
  The phone kept ringing, Sesshomaru waiting on the other end of the line. Toga watched her go. As he pressed his thumb to answer, bringing the call to his ear, he realized what had happened. 
</p><p>
  He’d made his family off-limits to her in their agreement. She was respecting that limit, even with something as simple as a phone call. 
</p><p>
  “What?” he heard himself say, just as Izayoi turned out of sight, and Sesshomaru began to speak. 
</p><p>
  His son never bothered him with trifling matters. Rumors of a land dispute had reached him, originating in China, wherein the human government wished to encroach upon the lands of the 
  Hyōnekozoku
  . The spotted leopards weren’t any particular friends of his, of course, and his responsibilities didn’t extend into their territory, but it was important to know. Any dispute between his kind and humankind was noteworthy. It often ended up involving everyone, from every country— be they yokai or otherwise.  
</p><p>
  He took his mental notes, gave a few words of instruction, and the call was over within five minutes.  
</p><p>
  Eventually, he saw Izayoi poking her head around a pillar in the far side of the restaurant to check in on him. Trying to hide his smile - and failing - he gestured for her to return, giving her the nod that said it was safe. The sight was endearing despite how strange it felt, but she had an innate ability to make even the most unnatural of things feel completely normal.
</p><p>
  “Is everything all right?” she asked softly. At his nod, she promptly dropped the subject, knowing it was none of her business. “Well then, where were we?”
</p>
<hr/><p>
  It was pleasant conversation and nothing more for the rest of the evening, as plain as he assumed any normal mortal date was. When it was time to depart, he stole the bill away from the waiter before she could so much as make an utterance towards paying, pressing cash into the black presenter their receipt had been delivered in.
</p><p>
  “It’s done,” he said with finality, indicating he wouldn’t be swayed on the subject. Izayoi gave a cute roll of her eyes and a small huff that managed to ruffle her bangs, allowing him this one small chivalry. 
</p><p>
  “Next one’s on me, then.”
</p><p>
  Leaning up, she gifted him with a sweet kiss that drew on a bit longer than all the rest, her hand drifting up to rest on his chest. Toga was more than happy to enjoy her taste, growing bold enough to swipe his tongue between her teeth and deepen the affection with insistence. Izayoi gave a soft sound of surprise before chasing the sensation back into his mouth, taking his boldness as a momentary challenge before she broke away, merciless with her parting.
</p><p>
  “I’ll go first,” she said, granting him with one last brief kiss before she slid away, leaving him listless in the booth. “Thank you for dinner.”
</p><p>
  “Izayoi.”
</p><p>
  “Hm?” She paused as she stood, lingering beside the booth a second longer.
</p><p>
  “When will I see you next?”
</p><p>
  It didn’t seem like a particularly vulnerable question until he said it out loud, the words cast between them like a baited hook. How long it had been there was anyone’s guess, but Toga’s words were tugging the line with clear intent, fishing for more than this slow pace she had set for them.
</p><p>
  Izayoi smiled, considering coyly.
</p><p>
  It was only just as Toga realized that he’d been the one to take the bait that she spoke.
</p><p>
  “Soon.”
</p><p>
  With that she was gone, leaving him alone under the dim light of the booth. Once he was sure she was gone, he sighed, feeling like a fool a thousand times over.
</p><p>
<em>Moron.
  </em>
</p><p>
  He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for time to pass, leaning back in his seat as his mental clock ticked by. The corners of the gemstone he’d meant to return pressed in lightly against his fingertips, forgotten until this very moment.  
</p><p>
  Without considering the urge or what it might mean, he rolled it between his blunt claws, distantly remembering that night that seemed so long ago.  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Good Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few days after their date night, Toga received a text message unprompted, interrupting the nearly endless pattern of emojis, photos, and more emojis.</p><p>       <em> What are you wearing? </em></p><p>He’d been home for a few hours now, lounging on his couch and doing his very best to review the nightly news, but finding himself absolutely uninterested in the droning political debate on broadcast. It was mostly a human matter, so he didn't really need to watch it, but he’d learned long ago that paying attention to mortal politics was often a forecast for his next storm.</p><p>Still, to say her interruption was anything less than welcome would be an understatement.</p><p>Her text was a question, not a demand, so he played coy.</p><p>       <em> Why? </em></p><p>The response came quickly.</p><p>       <em> You’re wasting tiiime. </em></p><p>Glancing down at himself to confirm he was indeed wearing what he thought he’d thrown on when he got home - fashion was the least of his concerns, especially at the end of the day - he answered in turn, curious to what her angle was and hoping it was what he suspected.</p><p>       <em> Grey sweatpants. Nothing else. </em></p><p>It wasn’t.</p><p>       <em> Put on your suit from the gala. See you at 11. </em></p><p>Toga’s eyes flicked to the time just as a message followed with an address.</p><p>It was 10:25.</p>
<hr/><p>He barely made it on time.</p><p>Having been rather preoccupied with getting dressed and trying to make himself look like he hadn’t just rolled off the couch, he hadn’t checked the address she’d sent him until he was on his way out the door. Thankfully, he’d had enough forethought to throw the concealment charm on in case the setting was less than discrete, which worked out in his favor.</p><p>Because now he was standing at her front door.</p><p>Izayoi lived in a penthouse apartment on the top floor of a luxury hotel, bearing the name of a brand that her family had a large investment stake in. It wasn’t that different from his own place, he thought. But whereas she lived somewhere unrelated to her job - like most normal people did - he happened to live in the same building that housed his business headquarters.</p><p>It was no flying castle, but it sufficed.</p><p>Toga knocked on her door at exactly 10:59 PM, stepping back and waiting patiently. Luckily, the clothes she'd requested had been clean and readily available - a black suit and a wine colored shirt beneath, darkly purple against the warmth of his beige skin - but he couldn’t shake an awkward feeling hovering around his shoulders. He wasn’t one to opt into formal attire, relaxed or otherwise, unless it was absolutely required. Standing out in the middle of the hallway looking incredibly human was bad enough, but suffering through modern fashion? Regrettable, at best.</p><p>He mourned the days of cotton and silk kimonos. Hell; he’d prefer his armor over a tie any day of the week. The only small mercy of this outfit was that he hadn't worn a tie to the gala, which meant he didn't have to suffer one now. The uppermost buttons of his shirt were already purposefully undone to replicate how he'd been then: formal and yet flagrantly disheveled, as though he couldn't be constrained by human expectation in the slightest.</p><p>Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he continued to wait, wondering if they were going somewhere from here. Perhaps she’d made plans for them and would open the door in full formal attire to match, pressed and polished and beautiful.</p><p>But she didn’t.</p><p>Izayoi opened the door wearing what could be called, at most, work casual. A tan buttoned blouse hung loose around her shoulders, matched with a dark skirt that clung to her waist and flowed down to her knees. The first button of her shirt was undone, revealing a small, innocuous stretch of skin, and her sleeves were pressed up to her elbows, disheveled in a way that looked fashionable. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the sight, questioning without speaking as he noted the fact she was barefoot.</p><p>
  <em> Not going anywhere, then. </em>
</p><p>It was the most casual he’d ever seen her. What a sight he must be, bare-faced and black haired, standing in the middle of her hall like an overdressed moron in polished shoes.</p><p>“Hello,” he greeted. She smiled in response, glancing over her shoulder to a clock that hung on a wall. He was on time.</p><p>“Come in.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>She stood aside and held the door open for him, clearly not making a big event of inviting him into her home for the first time. Toga pushed his hands into his pockets and stepped over the threshold into the genkan, trying not to look too interested in his surroundings.</p><p>What did she have in store for him?</p><p>“You can take off your shoes and your jacket,” she said softly, closing the door shut behind him with a soft <em>click.</em> He nodded, shuffling his shoes off without bending over, toeing the heels and gently sliding them aside with the others lining the wall. He shrugged off his jacket as well, hanging it on the hooks beside him. He stole glances at her home all the while, suddenly allowed this new insight into her life.</p><p>Her home was typical in its open layout, featuring tall windows on the outer walls and a sleek, modern interior within. The entryway led immediately out into the living room, and beyond that the balcony; either side opened to square archways, one narrow and one wide, the former likely leading to an unknown number of bedrooms and the latter into the kitchens and dining area.</p><p>The city sparkled outside the thick glass panes beyond as she drifted into his field of vision, obscuring his view of polished floors and dark walls. A strange, unexpected nervousness fluttered in his chest as she looked him over, but he refused to acknowledge it completely. He was quickly learning that he couldn’t be surprised every time she elicited a new emotion out of him. With the rate at which she was doing it - with the absolute, impossible ease - he’d never be able to get past the shock if he did.</p><p>“Like what you see?” he asked softly, stubbornly refusing to let his confidence falter.</p><p>She hummed pleasantly, saying nothing. Instead, she reached out and gently fished the omamori-shaped charm hidden inside his shirt out from his collar, pulling it over his head. He tilted with her movements, glad to be rid of it.</p><p>When his hair faded to silver and his markings bled back into place beneath his eyes, she smiled and twined her arms around his neck, arching her feet to pull herself up to him.</p><p>“Now I do," she teased, and kissed him hello.</p><p>Gods, he’d never get tired of her kisses. Soft and warm and tender, she was never demanding with them, always kind. She tasted like sunlight on a spring day, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care that this was a reward. For dressing like she’d asked, for arriving on time, for impressing her…</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>He was hopeless.</p><p>“Can I touch you?” he asked, leaning in fractionally when her lips left his, longing for more. His hands were still shoved in his pockets.</p><p>The way she smiled at the question made everything worth it.</p><p>“Yes,” she allowed, and immediately his hands were on her waist, holding her close, shifting her weight from the balls of her feet into his arms. “But…”</p><p>“But?” he repeated, thumbs rubbing thoughtlessly against her shirt. Inhaling deep and not bothering to hide the action, he took in her scent, soothed by its familiar sweetness.</p><p>“I want you to call me something, tonight.”</p><p>His eyes flicked up to her and he waited for the rule, knowing she would tell him without his asking.</p><p>“Ma’am,” she breathed, leaning in and teasing him, brushing her lips against his, soft skin against soft skin.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck, fuck fuck fuck— </em>
</p><p>A new rule. A new line found in the sand, about to be crossed.</p><p>“Yes, ma'am,” he murmured, sauntering over it without a care in the world. This was all just fun, anyway. A game.</p><p>Another kiss, another reward, and he pulled her close this time, pressing her body to his as she giggled into his mouth.</p><p>She pulled away too soon and drew herself out of his personal space, taking his hand with her and gently pulling him into the apartment. He followed without hesitation, letting her lead him into her home.</p><p>“What do you have in store for us tonight,” he asked, and quickly added, “ma’am?”</p><p>She squeezed his hand happily, lacing their fingers.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Nothing?”</p><p>That wasn’t the answer he’d been suspecting, and neither was her explanation.</p><p>“I just wanted to see you,” she said, leading him into the living room and around the soft, plush sofas that faced the television. Gently, she guided him to sit, pushing him down into the crux of the armrest. “And you don’t have work tomorrow.”</p><p>She was right, because of course she was. Still, he didn’t trust that look in her eyes, unable to bring himself to believe that she’d had him run across the city in a half hour just to see him.</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>Izayoi pushed his leg aside so he was sitting longways on the couch, settling down between them and leaning back against his chest. He let his arm drape down around her hip, resting in her lap as she covered herself with a blanket. Judging by the fact the television was already on and the couch was in a state of general disarray, he imagined she’d been lounging here before his arrival. Texting him, waiting...</p><p>“What?” she asked, twisting around to look at him, playing coy. “Don’t trust me?”</p><p>“No, ma’am,” he smirked, “Inviting me over for the first time <em> and </em> introducing new rules? Sounds like a trap to me.”</p><p>Her eyes sparkled as she shrugged, moving to lay back as she returned her attention to the television. Idly, her arm stretched up and back to wrap around his neck, her entire body settling against his as she hooked one of her legs over his.</p><p>“It’s never the new ones that fool you, you know,” she mused softly, pressing soft circles into the nape of his neck with her fingers. He leaned back into the touch, beginning to relax.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>She just hummed a non-committal response, content to let him linger in his thoughts.</p>
<hr/><p>It turned out that, for all he could tell, she <em> had </em> only wanted to spend time with him.</p><p>Three hours later they were still on the couch, watching television in the dark, relaxing in the dreary hours between late night and early morning. Toga couldn’t say he was disappointed in the outcome, simply because he wasn’t, but it did leave him wondering. For a relationship that had started as a midnight tryst, he found it strange that their official relationship involved none of those activities— especially considering the nature of the paperwork under which it had begun.</p><p>Nearly a month now, and she hadn’t pressed upon him any of the promises enclosed in her list of preferences. To the casual observer they’d be no more than friends with a very strange way of texting, not resembling anything close to a committed relationship.</p><p>Yet this was the most committed he’d been to anything in years. Centuries, even. The paperwork alone spoke volumes to that end.</p><p>Eyes closed, letting his mind wander from the movie that hadn’t captured his interest to begin with, Toga rested his head back against the armrest and dragged his claws up Izayoi’s spine, finding himself grateful for her allowance of touch. She was practically purring with contentment on top of him, her chest against his hips and her head on his sternum, pillowed by her arms as she watched her movie. The shine of her hair shifted in the light of every scene change, falling like a silken veil over her shoulder and onto him.</p><p>Toga was drifting, lulled by her steady heartbeat and the calming scent she’d covered him in, keeping himself awake with only the lazy rotations of his wrist. It had been a long day and she was like a drug, smothering him with her soft warmth.</p><p>At some point he must’ve fallen asleep, because he woke to a finger lightly poking into the hollows of his cheek, gently prodding him from his dreams.</p><p>“Did you go to bed, Toga?”</p><p>Her voice was smooth and soothing, if not a little distant. He shifted slightly, realizing his palm was flat in the small of her back now, claws twitching against her shirt.</p><p>“Yes,” - and he didn’t forget, wouldn’t forget, refusing to be fooled - “ma’am.”</p><p>Her finger moved to his chest, slowly undoing the top button of his shirt.</p><p>“Really?” she murmured, drawing her fingernail over the curve where his throat met his sternum and collarbones, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Well. That’s a problem.”</p><p>His eyes cracked open, watching her pop open the next button.</p><p>“Is it?” he wondered.</p><p>She slid her arms into a cross over his chest, propping herself up so she could look down on him. The look in her eyes was stunning, her hair spilling over her shoulders in a waterfall.</p><p>“You forgot to text me good night.”</p><p>Alarm bells blared in his mind, startling him awake.</p><p>“I-” <em>Shit. Shit, shit. </em>He propped himself up on his own elbows, unable to suppress the pangs of panic that she’d abruptly caused. “But I’m here. With you.”</p><p>Izayoi smiled, sliding away and standing from the couch, leaving him bereft and cold as she denied him her own warmth. The light of the television haloed her in a striking tableau, neither ominous nor angelic.</p><p>“That’s no excuse.”</p><p>He’d been had.</p><p>“Come on, then,” she murmured, reaching down and sliding her hands over his shoulders, guiding him up to his feet. He went smoothly, not fighting her, surprised by the way his heart pounded in his chest.</p><p><em> Vixen. </em> She’d laid the trap and he’d fallen headlong into it, not even realizing it was there, tricked into a false sense of security by her soothing presence. But she was right, technically; he was meant to text her before he fell asleep at night, regardless of where he was.</p><p>“...You’re not going to apologize?” she wondered, pressing her hands flat against his chest, gently rubbing the heel of her palm up over his muscles to get him out of his head. It was a clear prompt.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he blathered lamely.</p><p>Her eyes flickered in the dim light. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>“Ma’am,” he swallowed hard, suddenly not feeling like himself. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”</p><p>Her responding hum did not bode well for him.</p><p>“Are you?” she mused. “I’m not convinced.”</p><p>But before he could respond - which, ultimately, felt like a mercy, because he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say to make it right - she parted from him and sauntered away, flicking her hair over her shoulder.</p><p>“Follow me.”</p><p>He did.</p><p>They walked down the narrower of the two hallways, adventuring deeper into her apartment, passing by a few closed doors to reach the one that stood at the end of the hall. She pressed it open without ceremony, holding it open for him when he came close.</p><p>
  <em> Well. </em>
</p><p>It was a bedroom. A completely normal bedroom— with a normal bed in the middle of one wall, covered with normal blankets; with a normal vanity, a normal set of dressers, and a normal closet. By the smell of it, he could tell it was her everyday bedroom, no different than any other woman’s. There were no lights on, their movements guided only by the ambient glow of the city through the long windows.</p><p>He didn’t know where exactly he’d been expecting her to lead him, but it hadn’t been this.</p><p>She closed the door behind him with a heavy <em> click. </em></p><p>Why the hell was he so nervous?</p><p>As if hearing his thoughts, Izayoi approached him from behind and lay her hands on his shoulders, grounding him, sliding her palms across and down his arms in a soothing motion. Some of his tension eased, though not in full.</p><p>“Calm down,” she murmured, squeezing softly. “You remember the rules?”</p><p>Numbly, he nodded.</p><p>"You know how to stop it?"</p><p>He nodded again and said, "Yes, ma'am."</p><p>“Say it,” she instructed. “I want to hear it.”</p><p>“Indigo.”</p><p>Somehow, that word felt heavy on his lips.</p><p>“Okay,” she pressed a light kiss into the space between his shoulder blades, reassuring him without a word, and began. “Roll up your sleeves.”</p><p>Toga complied with practiced ease, undoing his studded, crescent cufflinks and rolling the reinforced edges of his sleeves up to his elbows, tucking the accessories into his pockets. It exposed his markings, the indigo stripes appearing nearly black against the dark.</p><p>Her hands traveled further down his arms once he was done, trailing around his elbows, sliding over those markings until they stopped around his wrists. Toga gave her no resistance when she moved his arms, guiding them to cross behind his back, each of his forearms held in his opposite hand. His claws pricked reflexively against his own skin, leaving pinpricks behind that disappeared immediately.</p><p>“Keep them this way until I tell you otherwise,” she instructed, sliding her hands back up to his biceps, gently squeezing her fingers into the grooves of his muscles hidden underneath his thin shirt. “Are you ready?”</p><p>He nodded, swallowing hard.</p><p>“Out loud, Toga.”</p><p>“...Yes.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” he corrected, feeling numb, feeling dumb.</p><p>She pressed a kiss into the bare skin of his neck, reassuring him again, and he suddenly remembered what it felt like to shiver. He only kept on shivering as she trailed her fingernails backwards over his arm, flighting across his back, and then around the other until she was standing in front of him, adjusting his open collar in a way she liked. After a long moment of nothing, the silence stretching as he stared down at her, she stepped back.</p><p>“Undress me.”</p><p>His arms twitched to comply and she pinned him with a gentle look of warning, eyes dancing in a way that suggested he should be careful.</p><p>“...How?” he wondered, searching for the instructions that were her responsibility to give.</p><p>“Any way you can,” she answered, sparkling, somehow different in the darkness of her room. “Be creative.”</p><p>He blinked, realizing too slowly what she meant.</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Was this his price? Being denied the privileges he’d been given earlier? Of all the costs he’d ever had to pay in his life, this was a far cry from the worst, but… Some small part of him was already mourning, already apologetic, playing into the role he was meant to have. As much as he hadn’t expected it, he <em> was </em> ready; ready to hand himself over to her, however she liked, because he <em> trusted </em> her.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>When had that happened?</p><p><em> Somewhere between a good morning and a goodnight, probably, </em> a snide voice in the back of his skull answered, far more observant than his conscious mind. And it was right. Her texts and their brief meetings were more than just passive orders or prying insights into his life— they’d been establishing boundaries, testing, proving to each other they could respect them. She’d held him true to every rule she’d set and he’d followed them all without question, no matter how trivial. When he’d so much as blinked in hesitation at something, she’d paused and checked in, no questions asked; and when Sesshomaru had interrupted their time together, she’d dropped everything to step away and allow him his space, not even giving him enough time to ask for privacy before she was giving it to him.</p><p>He trusted her and she trusted him, and now, for the first time, she was asking him to trust her with something intimate and painfully personal.</p><p>So he did.</p><p>“I’m waiting, Toga,” she prompted, stirring him from his thoughts.</p><p><em> Fuck, </em>came the first predicatable response, and then something more level-headed: <em>Focus. </em></p><p>She wanted to be undressed, and who was he not to give her that?</p><p>Stepping through the dark, closing the empty space between them in a single stride, he considered her clothing for only a moment before dropping into a crouch, knowing that he didn’t have much choice.</p><p>Toga leaned forward and, slowly, one by one, began to work the buttons of her blouse open with his mouth.</p><p>Izayoi hummed with delight, letting her hands fall into his hair and cage over his ears, guiding him up her body with ease as her fingers threaded through his silver strands. Her thumbs fell at the base of his stripes, pressing lightly, reassuring him as he complied with her orders. He was careful not to touch her the entire time because he didn’t have permission to, leaving only damp spots behind on her clothing as he traveled up from her navel, tugging gently at the fabric and minding his fangs. The thought of simply tearing everything off her body did flicker through his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he was willing to take a risk that bold.</p><p>Besides— even if he couldn’t touch her, he could still smell her, and that was more than enough to hold him over. Her anticipation was quickly rising, the sharp tang of her arousal bleeding across her skin as she buzzed with satisfaction, all bared freely to him, likely without her understanding. She had quite the learning curve to overcome if she wanted to deprive him of all his pleasures and senses, but he wouldn’t be the one to inform her of that particular caveat.</p><p>“Good,” she whispered, fingers teasing lightly against his scalp as his mouth rose to the buttons between her breasts. Much to his satisfaction, those popped free easier than the rest, and soon her shirt hung open loose, exposing a soft trail of skin from navel to neck, cut across with a stripe of dark color from her bra.</p><p>With a few encouraging tugs of the fabric over her shoulders with his teeth, the shirt slid down one arm and then the next, fluttering to the ground and landing in a pile at their feet.</p><p>There was one garment complete.</p><p>Toga eased back down and tipped forward onto his knees, careful not to let his skin touch hers as he began to work at the fastenings of her skirt - which, likely due to her own attentiveness, was simply a zipper secured with a hook and clasp. It was easy enough to tug the clasp free and take the zipper between his teeth, pulling down until it all fell, sweeping down in a waterfall of black fabric around her ankles with a slight gust of air.</p><p>A new scent hit him then, a heavy flush of eagerness that he recognized from their first night together.</p><p><em> Fuck. </em> He closed his eyes and swayed in the feeling, tempering his urges, digging his claws into his own forearms to ground himself. Droplets of blood began to bud beneath the pads of his fingers, but he didn’t care; she was all that mattered. Listening to her was all he should be focusing on.</p><p>Noticing him pause, Izayoi’s hand slipped down around to the nape of his neck to encourage him, gently guiding him back to his task, and he thought he might break. She pressed him all the way forward until his cheek was against the plane of her stomach, chin brushing against the edge of her hip, skin against skin. The touch sparked a fire that chased all the way down from his nose to his groin.</p><p>“Undress me,” she reminded, meeting his gaze as he stared long up at her, lost in the dark depths of her caramel eyes. “Nothing else.”</p><p>There was nothing important about the style or the color of the fabric that he cared to notice. He just opened his mouth, watching her, hooking one fang over the line of her panties and dragging downwards, closing his eyes, falling…</p><p>Then they were both there and she was dragging him up to his feet by the jaw, not letting him linger, not letting him break, steadying him when he wavered.</p><p>“What will you do now?” she asked, grounding him with the sound of her voice. Dazedly, he remembered she was still wearing her bra. The best and worst invention in modern history.</p><p>“I’ll…” he licked his lips, leaning forward into the hand that rested against his cheek, drawing soothing strokes over his markings. “I, uhm…”</p><p>He could hear her smile as his eyelids fluttered closed, trying to focus on any alternative that wasn’t tearing the clasp to shreds or awkwardly making her suffer through tugging off tight elastic.</p><p>“Toga,” she prompted, his name dancing with a soft melody on her lips. “Tell me what you need.”</p><p>He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know <em>how</em> to answer. Somehow she was able to tell, her touch becoming more encouraging, more soothing.</p><p>"You can do it," she murmured, running her thumb over his mouth, across the sharp point of a fang. "I know you can."</p><p>Then her hand left him, floating away, and he groaned, already missing the brief taste he'd been given. But she was turning before he could even think to voice a complaint, baring her back to him, reaching around to pull her hair up and over one shoulder in a shining waterfall.</p><p>“Go on,” she encouraged lightly, crossing her arms over her chest to hold the fabric in place for him— helping him, not needing to be asked, already knowing. He couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. He’d lived long enough that undressing women was a practiced game, but… there’d never been a need to struggle with undergarments or remove a bra with any creative flair. His ways were too fast, too demanding to bother with such things; and she knew that, because they’d been together before this, because he’d handled her and had her moaning into his neck, riding his hips, clawing his back…</p><p>But then was not now, so he bent down, swallowing his pride and taking the delicate lace between his teeth, tugging carefully. It took a few tries before the dual hooks pulled free, a small flare of triumph blooming in his chest when they fell away and exposed the full length of her spine, uninterrupted. He wanted to press his lips there, wanted to lean in and taste her, to put his hands on her hips and shove her beneath him, but—</p><p><em> But nothing. </em> He had a job to do and a need to impress her that was more prominent than his lust, more important, so he pushed his desires aside with a stubborn determination. <em>Focus. </em></p><p>He kept to his task, carefully pulling the thin straps off her shoulders by hooking them on his fangs, taking the opportunity to scrape the points gently over the tender skin of her arms. When she shivered it took all he had not to give into his urges. Images of throwing her down to the bed erupted in his mind, both a memory and a desperate want.</p><p>Then her hands were on his face again when she turned around, fully bare, pulling him out of his thoughts only to send another wave of desire crashing down to his knees.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>He’d never been so grateful to be able to see clearly in the dark. She was shining in front of him, supple and soft, the curves of her body highlighted by the dim city lights that managed to peek in through the tall curtains. Unable to do as he usually would, he just stared in awe, taking the time to appreciate the gift he was being given.</p><p>Maybe there was some value in taking things slow, after all.</p><p>The task completed, he let his head hang between her palms, not sure what to expect next, but hoping, wanting and longing all the same. Wondering what she’d let him do next, if he’d paid the price for his minor misstep yet…</p><p>It seemed he hadn’t, because he was immediately devastated, denied; pulled across the room and placed at attention at the side of her bed, her hands stolen away from him when she let him go, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, gliding down to the satin sheets.</p><p>“On your knees,” she instructed, and he hit the floor with a dull <em> thud</em>, unashamed of how easily he crumbled. Her foot slid forward to press his knees further apart, just because she could, and he adjusted to her demands, forced to kneel in worship before her.</p><p>
  <em> Fucking hell. </em>
</p><p>When she began to touch herself - lying back on her bed alone, hair spread out in a shining veil, light falling across her body in a way that highlighted every dip and curve of the skin he craved so badly, posed expertly so he could see what had no permission to touch - he felt something inside his chest shatter into a million tiny pieces, left helpless for the first time at the hands of a mortal.</p><p>What was worse, though, was the fact that he loved every second of it.</p><p>Her hands were everywhere he longed for his to be, sliding over soft planes in a way that suggested she knew exactly what he wished, what he wanted, and still had no designs to give it to him. Her fingers plucked her nipples and rolled them tight, pressing her breasts together in a sight that made his mouth go dry. Blood rushed with renewed confidence to lower parts of his body. Watching her do everything he remembered doing to her on their first night together, what he desperately yearned to repeat— <em> Gods, </em> listening to her moan and pant and groan, he bit down on the inside of his cheek, unable to ignore the desire pooling deep in his abdomen. All of it was only made worse by the knowledge that he was not the direct cause of them, sparking envious lust.</p><p>It was not the way of demons to sit idly by and watch others take what they desired, no matter if they were, in fact, taking themselves. The moment his eyes flickered away in some failed attempt at maintaining his composure, she was calling him back.</p><p>“What? You don’t want to look?” she asked, pressing her hand between her legs, arching her back, tilting her legs apart. Her wetness was dizzying. “Don’t want to take advantage of what I’m giving you?”</p><p>“No,” he said immediately, blathering, stumbling, “I— Yes, I do, ma’am.”</p><p>“Do what?” He swallowed hard, watching her wrist rotate in a purposeful swirl.</p><p>“Want to watch.”</p><p>“Then watch,” she shuddered, smiling, tipping into herself. “Or I won’t give you a taste.”</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“...yes, ma’am.”</p><p>Somewhere in between her heavy scent and his headier thoughts, she finished with a moaning cry, and he was practically begging by the time she did, hopelessly straining in his own trousers, unable to reconcile his humiliation with the pleasure she brought him. When her slick fingers found his lips he let them in without reistance, cleaned them with his tongue, taking the taste she'd promised and <em> by all the fucking Gods— </em></p><p>She was paradise wrapped up in a mortal body, and he was drunk on her.</p><p>“Good,” she crooned, wrapping her other hand in his hair, massaging her fingers into the space behind his ear. “You did good, Toga.”</p><p>He groaned against her hand, not knowing how much more of this he could take. When she finally took her fingers out of his mouth, he panted, closing his eyes. His arms would be bruised in the morning.</p><p>“Can I…?”</p><p>“No,” she said, without even considering his request. He groaned helplessly and she hooked her fingers under his jaw again, dragged him up, placed him on the edge of her bed and pressed his knees open, falling between his legs without a word of warning. His thoughts cascaded into a flurry of hopeless desires. “You’re almost there. We’re almost done.”</p><p>Then she was returning all his favors, in part; on her knees before him, unbuttoning his trousers and letting him free of his restraints, finally touching more than just his face and providing sorely needed relief.</p><p>“Don’t move,” Izayoi instructed, the words spinning out somewhere in the dizzy desires clouding his mind. He heard her and he understood, but it was becoming an increasingly hopeless endeavor. “You can endure. I know you can.”</p><p>Her encouragements were enough to break through the fog, enough to remind him where he was and what role he had to play. What she was doing for him.</p><p>“Just focus on feeling, Toga.” Her hands ran up and down the banded muscles of his thighs in comforting paces, sliding over the pleats in the fabric, pulling him up out of his spiral and back to her. “Don’t move. Don’t think. That’s not for you to worry about.”</p><p>He made some strangled sound in acknowledgement, vocal chords rasping, knowing that he was probably a mistake by not answering her aloud. But she let it go— she saw his struggle, recognized he was reaching his limit, and showed him mercy. They were both still new to each other and their game. It was her job to make sure no one broke, to protect them both, and by the way his markings were growing into jagged stripes across his cheekbones, she was reaching an edge that she was not allowed to cross.</p><p>“Just breathe.”</p><p>He did, and then— he didn’t.</p><p>Izayoi used her mouth in a different way than he had, threatening to destroy his composure in just a few fleeting seconds. Her tongue slipped over her bottom lip, flicking over his sensitive tip in a merciless swirl, staring up at him, watching him underneath fluttering eyelashes. He wanted to tip his head back, wanted to fist his hand in her hair and explode, but he couldn’t...</p><p>Her hands worked in equal ministrations, his own clamping down around his forearms, claws piercing through skin to temper himself. Toga forced himself to comply, to submit, to obey as she rewarded him for his struggles, even though he couldn't understand why he yearned to impress her so badly. All that he did move was his expression, shattering in frustration and pleasure, no longer under his control.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. Fuck, fuckfuckfuck— </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t an eloquent stream of thought, but neither were their actions.</p><p>Her lips parted over him, down and over his weeping head in an exquisite sensation of warmth and wetness, and the world fogged with lust. It was a slow, torturous movement— punishment and pleasure, entwined together on the tip of her tongue, in the careful, smoothing movements of her hand massaging along the base of his shaft.</p><p>“Don’t,” she warned, just as his hips spasmed, his length slipping out of her lips with an indecent <em> pop. </em> But she wasn’t admonishing him about the movement. He was close and she could tell, even as she dragged him in another long stroke, tempting him closer to the edge. “Don’t you dare.”</p><p>Spine rigid, forearms bleeding under his own restraint, he groaned helplessly into the open air.</p><p>“Izayoi…”</p><p>“Is that really what you mean to say?” Even she was breathing heavily, though not nearly as hard as he was, his entire body tense to the point of breaking. In some distant, ragged part of his mind that wasn’t completely affixed to her, he felt himself shudder, heard his own thoughts unravel.</p><p>“Ma’am,” he corrected, nearly strangling himself on the word. He could hear himself coming undone, voice rasping out of his throat.</p><p>“That’s better.”</p><p>He wasn’t going to last. With her touch, her breath, her mouth, her everything, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself together much longer. It was more than a want, now. It was a desperate, burning <em> need. </em></p><p>“All you need to do is ask,” Izayoi guided, pulling him back to her, out of the ocean he was lost in, always there to see him through the storm. “Beg, Toga.”</p><p>
  <em> Beg. </em>
</p><p>He would’ve questioned the command if he were in his right mind, because the Inu no Taisho did not beg - he’d never begged for anything, never showed such weakness, always taken what was his by rights or by blood - but it seemed that, when pressed hard enough, Toga would.</p><p>“Please,” he answered, mindless and thoughtless, listing off the side of a cliff, “<em>please, </em>ma’am. I need—” he grunted, trying not to lurch forward as she ran her tongue against a sensitive spot under his quivering erection, pressing kisses along the length in a sloppy trail. “Please, fucking hell, Izayoi, <em>please—</em>”</p><p>She laughed softly, palmed him up against himself and pressed him back into the sheets with a gentle shove that sent him spiraling, bouncing, colliding with soft sheets that felt like ice against his skin. Izayoi leaned up and held herself over him, drawing him out of himself with experienced hands, kissing him so hard the world turned to stars behind his eyelids.</p><p>“Come for me, Toga,” she demanded, and there was nothing he could do but that.</p><p>Shattering, breaking, dissolving, releasing— all over himself, his shirt, the bed, he didn’t care, he was gone, lost somewhere in the back of his mind where no one could reach him. Her hand continued in agonizing strokes as he came, pumping out his desire in a release and a reward, littering kisses all over his jaw as he sputtered and groaned against her, not wanting to get herself caught on his fangs in a kiss.</p><p>It was a few moments until he found his way back into his body.</p><p>When he did, he’d been moved, curled on his side and panting into Izayoi’s chest, focusing intently on the steady sound of her heartbeat. Still clothed, his arms had released themselves and twined around her body as she held him close, her chin tipped over his head and her fingers listlessly combing through his hair. It was likely a strange sight, him lying in bed fully dressed with his pants undone, cradled in a naked woman’s arms, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to care. She’d completely and thoroughly wrecked him.</p><p>“Fuck,” he said, just as he’d thought twenty times since he’d entered this apartment, and Izayoi’s answering laugh sounded like music. She kissed the crown of his bangs, gently pulling him in closer to her breast. “What the fuck…”</p><p>“Welcome back.”</p><p>He groaned pitifully and melted into her, not sure how he was feeling. She hushed him, as if she was able to feel the slight turmoil brewing in his chest.</p><p>“Are you all right?”</p><p><em> Yes. No... Yes. </em> He sighed. “I think so.”</p><p>Her hands fell from his hair to rub his arms, which felt vaguely sore from the task of restraining himself. It was a strange sensation. He knew his wounds had already closed and healed over, but in the act of unwinding it felt as though everything inside had snapped, broken to a point where recovery might come slow.</p><p>Or maybe he was being melodramatic.</p><p>“You did really well,” she whispered against his temple, kissing his forehead, rubbing his back. His skin practically vibrated beneath her touch. “So well.”</p><p>He said nothing in response simply because he didn’t know what to say, but he did feel soothed, nestling into her chest. Even if he didn’t feel like himself, at least she was there to remind him who he was.</p><p>“It wasn’t too much, was it?” she pressed gently, and he realized faintly that he wasn’t the only one who’d been vulnerable, who’d shouldered the task of something new and unfamiliar. This was the first time for the both of them and as much as he needed her care, she also needed his.</p><p>Daring to kiss the swell of her breast, he smiled to hear her gasp, reaching around tighter to pull her near. A rumble vibrated from his chest up through hers, soothing in a way she’d never known.</p><p>“Not at all.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Art!</b>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://kalcia.tumblr.com/post/642478825382494208/second-gift-sketch-for-loveyou-x3000-toga-and">
    
  </a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://kalcia.tumblr.com/post/642478825382494208/second-gift-sketch-for-loveyou-x3000-toga-and">"Undress me." by @kalcia</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Stamina</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  He still didn’t understand how he could feel this way when they hadn’t even had sex. 
</p><p>
  Not that what they had done wasn’t explicit or intimate - because it was, more so than he’d experienced in a long, long time, if ever - but the fact that he could experience such satisfaction from trust and touch alone was entirely foreign to him. Standing in her shower, cleaning away the evidence of their activities while she sent his clothes away to be laundered, he washed his hair and tried to make sense of his thoughts. An hour of sleep had done him wonders, but he still found his mind wandering, tracing back, trying to analyze every foggy moment of his thoughts. 
</p><p>
  <em>
    All of that, over a text. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  What would happen if he did worse? 
</p><p>
  Pressing the lather through his hair - the fact that she’d conveniently had the exact brand he preferred was not lost on him, nor were the loose sweatpants she’d folded for him on the counter - he tipped his chin down, rubbing his neck as the water rushed down his back. 
</p><p>
  Sesshomaru would lose his damn mind if he found out he was involved with a human like this. 
</p><p>
  Toga knew it shouldn’t matter. What people did in their private lives was no one else’s business, but no one considered Izayoi’s life private, and even less so his. He’d relinquished his right to privacy at least five centuries ago, somewhere between Ryukotsusei’s death and Oda Nobunaga’s rise to power. Perhaps things were better than they had been when it came to blurring the line between their worlds, but he wasn’t meant to enjoy the results— he was meant to maintain the integrity of their side. He wasn’t a normal demon. He was 
  <em>
    the
  </em>
   demon; the Inu no Taisho, the voice of his kind in these islands, whether or not he was appreciated for it. His involvement with a humanitarian would be more than just poor optics. And if their ‘contract,’ for lack of a better term, was ever unearthed… 
</p><p>
  Well, he’d have a bigger problem than just the press. That was for sure. 
</p><p>
  Twisting the faucets off, he shook his hair until it was merely damp, stepping out of the shower and onto the marbled floors to pull a towel off the rack. He dried himself off the rest of the way, trying to lead his thoughts to more pleasant things. As long as they were careful, they wouldn’t be found out. The public didn’t know what he looked like when disguised as a human, so even if they were documented together, it wouldn’t be as Izayoi and the Inu no Taisho. 
</p><p>
  Maybe his family would catch on, but them he could manage. 
</p><p>
  Once he was done drying off, Toga took the sweatpants that had been left for him and stepped into them, pulling the drawstrings and tying it off so the pants hung loosely around his hips. He took stock of himself in the mirror for a moment, ruffling his hair. There was nothing out of place, because of course there wasn’t, and he wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting to see except himself. His eyes were still gold and the ten markings he could see were still there, as indigo as ever. If anything, he just looked a little sleepy, chin-length hair mussed.
</p><p>
  Shrugging, he turned away from himself and stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. By the size of it all, he suspected that this was not, in fact, the Master Bedroom, but he also supposed that that was none of his business. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi was laying back in bed, having changed the dirtied sheets for fresh ones. She’d drawn open the curtains while he’d been washing, and now the dim city glow spilled down over her, the first of morning’s light not yet broken. Most of her was hidden beneath soft satin sheets and blankets, but the outlines were enough to set his mind wandering, imagination churning. The length of her raven hair had been bundled up on the top of her head, a few strands slipping free over the pillows. Toga leaned against the doorframe and watched a while, enamored. 
</p><p>
  Then she looked at him, sleepy and smiling, and held up her hand so he would come back to bed.  
</p><p>
  “Good shower?” she wondered. 
</p><p>
  He pushed up off the doorframe to join her, closing the door behind him and slipping underneath the sheets. They naturally glided towards one another, Toga lying on his back as Izayoi pulled herself near, still nude, nestling her breasts against his chest as held herself up over him. He didn’t miss how her eyes traveled across his skin and, suddenly, he realized that this was the first time she’d seen him shirtless since their first tryst.  
</p><p>
  <em>
    How strange. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  “Are these tattoos?” she asked softly, running her hands over the two long stripes that cut across his shoulder.  
</p><p>
  Toga shook his head, reaching back and pinning one hand underneath his hair. The feeling of her pillowed against him was more than a little erotic, but he reigned in his urges. 
</p><p>
  “Markings,” he explained shortly, settling. Gingerly, he let his other hand fall to her lower back, testing to see if the game was through. She didn’t protest, a small smile pulling at her lips.  
</p><p>
  “Oh… well.” Izayoi propped herself up on him, forearm braced flat against his sternum. “Do they mean anything?” 
</p><p>
  “Not particularly. I’ve had them since birth.” He began to trace light circles across her skin, smirking a little when he felt her shiver. “Many yokai do.” 
</p><p>
  She hummed her acknowledgement, lifting her hand to his face. Gently, in a very similar fashion to his own ministrations, she brushed her fingertips over the lines of his cheeks. 
</p><p>
  "Your markings, they..." she traced its edge thoughtfully, the middle finger of her hovering hand skating over his skin, almost reverent in fashion. "They looked like they were moving." 
</p><p>
  The shock of urge that shot down to his groin did not go unnoticed. 
</p><p>
  "You were watching me?" 
</p><p>
  Now, an hour or so away from the event, he could look back and see himself in it: knelt at her bed, clothes dishevelled, strained and wrinkled, knees spread, practically bursting out of his own trousers. He hadn't noted where her eyes had been at the time, far more preoccupied with the workings of her hand and her heavy scent on the air. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi nodded, tracing another line along the edges of his stripes. 
</p><p>
  "Of course," she whispered, tipping her head to watch her fingers dance over his skin. "Why wouldn't I? You were beautiful." Her finger swirled, stopped, and then dragged down the indigo length. "Are beautiful." 
</p><p>
  With every word she said, she prodded the fire; brought the embers of their flames back to life. Toga's hand tensed on her lower back, refusing himself the urge to flip her beneath him. A woman calling him beautiful had never elicited such a primal desire, but most of the things she did were full of new reactions. So instead of submitting to the beast that always lay dormant beneath his skin, waiting, calling out for him to take what should be rightfully his, Toga shifted focus and tried to follow her down her path. 
</p><p>
  "That was what you were thinking about?" he murmured, lifting and twisting his neck to burrow into hers, lightly nudging her with his nose. "The fully clothed man on your floor, acting a fool?" 
</p><p>
  She giggled— not girlishly, but airily, gently pressing his face back with the finger that had glued itself to his cheekbone. His head bounced softly on the pillow. 
</p><p>
  "That's not what I saw," she murmured, leaning down to press a warm, reassuring kiss to the edge of his jaw. "I saw the strongest man in all the world, wanting me. Delirious with need." Another kiss to his neck, to his chin. "Straining against everything to find his way to me." 
</p><p>
  The innuendo was not lost on him, nor was the responding shudder that ran through his bones, disturbing and unexpected in equal turns. He was quickly learning to expect the unexpected when in Izayoi's care, so he simply accepted the sensation, wondering where it might lead them. When he said nothing more, she kissed the fluttering of his pulse a final time, and then returned to the gentle attentions she'd been paying him. 
</p><p>
  "Were they moving?"  
</p><p>
  Toga leaned into her touch, claws twitching reflexively against her skin. "It's likely." 
</p><p>
  Her eyes sparkled with fascination. Shifting against his chest slightly, she dropped her hand to cradle his cheek, running her thumb over the marking instead, more possessively than before. 
</p><p>
  "Why?" 
</p><p>
  "A change in my yoki." 
</p><p>
  He did not miss the way she licked her lips, biting down on the lower flesh in thought. 
</p><p>
  "Sex does that to you?" 
</p><p>
  Toga nodded, amused. "Many things do." 
</p><p>
  "How much can they change?" she wondered next. 
</p><p>
  It was an opportunity he could not dismiss. Smirking, he traced the edge of his claws up her spine, gently gliding over the dips and ridges of bone. 
</p><p>
  "You can find out, if you'd like." 
</p><p>
  She blinked in surprise, shivering lightly when his hand skated a little lower than before on it’s path back down. He could see the thoughts churning in her mind. 
</p><p>
  “You’re… you’re not tired?” 
</p><p>
  He couldn’t help the way his eyebrow shot up in amusement, letting his hand stall to fall flat on her hip.  
</p><p>
  “Demons don’t get tired.” 
</p><p>
  “I…” and then, inexplicably, she was blushing. “Oh.” 
</p><p>
  “Oh,” he repeated, chuckling. “It would take a great wound to put me at any disadvantage.” 
</p><p>
  “Well, uhm,” Izayoi bit her lip again, thinking. “I didn’t really plan anything else, but…”  
</p><p>
  A part of him recognized the opportunity to take control of the situation. It would be easy. She'd been taken off guard and he could try and guide the situation, effortlessly nudge it toward something favorable. Whether it was out of instinct or habit, he was definitely tempted by his tried and true methods.
</p><p>
  <em>
    But.
  </em>
</p><p>
  But he wasn’t here to do what he’d always done. That wasn’t the point.  
</p><p>
  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked instead, purposefully shifting to new tactics. She nodded, transferring her hand and its tender touch from his face to his shoulder. “Have you forgiven my trespasses?” 
</p><p>
  Something about the question made her smile. Her eyes flicked up to his, wrist still idly circling over his shoulder, dragging her fingernails across his indigo lines.  
</p><p>
  “Perhaps.” 
</p><p>
  “Then will you permit me to touch you?” he proposed, not moving the hand that was already on her hip. With a smirk, he added the expected, “Ma’am.” 
</p><p>
  Eyes glistening, she bit her lip again, playing at the expression of coy thoughtfulness. He wasn’t fooled by it, though; there was a sharpness lingering in her gaze, naturally calculating and confident. 
</p><p>
  “No,” she decided, reaching back to peel his hand off her hip, setting it aside on the bed. Toga didn’t bother with complaining because she was already leaning in, planting a kiss to the jutting ridge of his neck, pressing herself eagerly against his chest. “Not with your hands, anyway.” 
</p><p>
  He couldn’t help but chuckle, a satisfied rumble vibrating through his chest.  
</p><p>
  “As you say.” 
</p><p>
  Knowing what was expected without needing instruction, he rolled over and tipped her onto her back in the same movement, finding himself enamored with the sight of her, naked and waiting underneath his chest. He knew the sun would soon rise and spoil the enchanting sight of her body bathed in cool nightlight, soft and supple, both his and not, so he meant to take advantage of it while he could. 
</p><p>
  Caging her between his hands and knees - fingers splayed on the clean sheets on either side of her waist, knees beside her legs - he leaned down and kissed the swell of her breast, catching a pink tip against the rough planes of his tongue, rasping purposefully against the budding peak. The way she arched up to meet him was tempting alone, but her taste— 
  <em>
    Gods,
  </em>
   he hadn’t appreciated her enough that first night, half-drunk as he'd been, and now he resolved to never commit such an atrocity again. Nothing short of worship was acceptable. 
</p><p>
  She pebbled and tightened underneath him, moaning softly as she wound her fingers through his hair. Unable to use his hands to relieve her other neglected breast, he kissed his way across the valley of her chest, leaving a damp trail behind before he licked her again, paying his dues at the next surging point of unattended flesh. She shivered beneath him and he was unable to suppress his growl, which, in turn, had her shuddering again, pressing helplessly into his open mouth. 
</p><p>
  His name fell from her lips in a breathy sigh and then she was guiding him, pulling his hair sharply down to instruct his path. It seemed she had the same designs in mind as he did. 
</p><p>
  Another taste of paradise. 
</p><p>
  He left hot, trailing kisses down her body as she dragged him, pushed him down until he was crawling backwards, laying himself between her parting knees. Arousal was stirring between his legs in a growing throb, but he forced himself to ignore the half-mast that burgeoned against his soft fabrics. Izayoi had already generously provided his release; she was due her return, and he was nothing if not a gentlemen in bed. She would be satisfied, and he intended to pay a hefty interest on what he owed, his own pleasure falling wayside. 
</p><p>
  Not that he could demand it in the first place. 
</p><p>
  However, the bed was not a suitable length to support his endeavors; finding himself unable to simply lay between her legs without his own dangling awkwardly off the edge of the mattress, he recoiled back onto his knees, sitting up as the blankets he’d snaked under began to fall off his shoulders. The sight of her before him was exquisite to say the very least, but she didn’t seem pleased that he’d pulled away. One elegant, soft leg reached up so that she could hook her foot around his neck, her ankle resting on the ridge where collarbone met shoulder. 
</p><p>
  She bent her knee and pulled him in, lurching him forward so his hands fell beside her hips in the sheets. 
</p><p>
  “Did I say you could go?” 
</p><p>
  “No, ma’am,” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss against the hollow of her ankle. He cast his gaze up her leg, letting it chase all the way down that wonderful length. “I’d like to move you, is all.” 
</p><p>
  She hummed thoughtfully, one of her hands lazily trailing across her chest in a clear effort to distract him. He followed her movements with his eyes, falling happily into her trap as she brushed her fingers over her breasts.  
</p><p>
  “Where?” 
</p><p>
  Unhooking himself from her grasp, he threw aside the blankets with a sweep of his arm, crawling backwards on his knees until he found the foot of the bed. Easily, he slid off the mattress, pressing his knees into the plush rug that accented hardwood floors. He leaned forward over the edge, elbows pinned on either side of him as he watched her from afar. 
</p><p>
  By the heady look in her eyes, it seemed she’d forgiven his bold withdrawal. 
</p><p>
  “All right, then,” she murmured, propping herself up on her elbow to watch him. She reached back to the elastic that held her hair in it’s bundle, pulling it free with a few deft twists and tugs. Black spilled down all around her in inky, shimmering waves, somehow only making her seem more sensual as it obscured parts of her from view. “You can move me.” 
</p><p>
  Toga lunged. 
</p><p>
  His hands fastened around her hips in an instant, clamping down with firm demand. She laughed with soft delight as he yanked her down, effortlessly reeling her into him, her elbow slipping free from underneath her as he dragged her flat on her back down the sheets. Her legs slid neatly into place on either side of him as they dipped over the edge of the mattress, the supple stretch of her inner thighs bracketing him to her. Completely nude, she was suddenly sitting there, the clift of her legs exposed— her scent, her fragrance, all intoxicating and impossibly tempting, now bared to him. 
</p><p>
  “What do you say?” Her fingers slid into his hair, carding back until she had him by the nape, clutching suddenly and arching his neck so he was looking up at her, tearing his gaze away from her prize. 
</p><p>
  He floundered for only a moment before his brain caught on. 
</p><p>
  “Thank you,” at the rise of her eyebrow, expectant and elegantly poised, he remembered himself, “ma’am.” 
</p><p>
  “Good.” She tugged again, drawing a soft noise of desire from deep in his throat, lifting her free hand to pry his fingers off one hip. His other hand fell away with the first, not needing further prompting. “Go on, then.” 
</p><p>
  He fisted his knuckles against the mattress, pressing in on either side of her with a simmering sort of frustration until she finally released his hair. His head snapped forward at the release, back to where he’d previously been attuned— to the smell, which was quickly growing heavier by the second. 
</p><p>
  Unable to touch her, unable to spread her with his fingers and part the slicked petals before him as he normally would, there was only one thing he could do. Locking eyes with Izayoi, finding himself lost in the endless, clouded depths of her dark gaze, he bent forward and pressed his lips against her, a breath of hot air against the soft thatch of curls. The moan that escaped her at his contact hit his ears and crashed straight down to his knees, ricocheting through his entire body with white light. And he might’ve been able to linger in that satisfaction, if not for the urge to taste her— if not for the fact his tongue moved of its own volition, exploring, pressing against the seam before splitting her apart, licking, tasting, lapping and—
  <em>
     holy fuck. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  He’d returned to paradise for the second time in a single night, and there was nothing whatsoever holding him to this Earth. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi’s hand tangled back in his hair within seconds, her back arching as she pressed her hips up to his face, neck lolling back with a sway of black hair. Her other hand fell on top of his fist behind her, pressing down on the back of his hand as she tipped backwards and angled into him. Her breathy, lustful sighs set his pace; he lapped up whatever she offered him, soon daring to spear her, to taste her moist, inner walls as they convulsed and pulsed against him. His nose nested against the throbbing cluster of nerves that made her shudder at the faintest touch, scenting her to excess, living inside the heavy musk that was dripping out of her and into his mouth. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi whimpered and he refocused his efforts, moving his tongue out of her to focus solely on that throbbing nub, sucking and rasping until her thighs were shuddering beside his head. 
</p><p>
  “<em>Fuck</em>,” her fingers trembled against his scalp, blunted nails digging in harmlessly where they weaved into his hair. 
</p><p>
  <em>
    Agreed, 
  </em>
  he groaned to himself, sucking hard until she cried out, falling back flat on the bed and dragging him forward without mercy. 
</p><p>
  “Touch me.” 
</p><p>
  He obeyed without thought, barely registering her words before he felt her hips beneath his claws, the constant tremble of her sweat-slicked, heated body between his hands. He pinned her to his mouth, brought her in closer as he finally had her sprawling over the edge, living in that final hungry stroke of his tongue— 
</p><p>
  —and then he didn’t stop, renewed by her orgasm, by the way she hooked her legs over his shoulders and locked him into her. Toga delved, prodding her again, nuzzling and kissing and paying every imaginable attention until she was shocked with another orgasm; one after the next, folded up in the last, sobbing with pleasure with her hips spasming against his face. 
</p><p>
  Only when he felt all semblance of strength shake out of her legs did he stop, rumbling happily as he kissed the trembling span of her inner thigh. 
</p><p>
  “...holy gods," she whispered, trembling like a leaf in the wind.  Toga pushed himself up off the ground with a surge of pride, knees numb as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and slid into place next to her, draping an arm over her waist.
</p><p>
  “See?” he whispered lowly, pressing a kiss to the tip of her ear as she rolled into him, still trembling. “I don’t get tired.” 
</p><p>
  “Uh-huh,” she acknowledged, barely there. He rubbed her back, watching as she cast a desperate, longing look back up towards the pillows. It seemed she didn’t have any strength to act otherwise, but he understood well enough. 
</p><p>
  “Come on.” 
</p><p>
  In a few deft movements, he had them back up at the top of the bed, her head laid to rest on the pillows as pulled the blankets up and over. The first of morning’s light had begun to color the sky outside the windows, lightening the few stars that could be seen into tiny pinpricks of fading light. It was still dark enough to sleep, though. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi turned her head to watch him as he lay down beside her, eyes half-lidded and sleepy as he settled in. She was glowing with contentment, an expression he could not wholly identify flickering through her gaze.  
</p><p>
  “Am I forgiven now?” he wondered, and she smiled.  
</p><p>
  “C’mere,” Izayoi whispered, intentions clear, and he obeyed, leaning in to reap his gentle reward before she slipped off into sleep. 
</p><p>
  It was true: he would never get tired of her kisses. 
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><strong>Art!</strong><br/><a href="https://loveyou-x3000.tumblr.com/post/635821290670915584/art-and-original-concept-by-heaveninhell-in"></a><br/><a href="https://loveyou-x3000.tumblr.com/post/635648639807700992/art-by-heaveninhell-read-the-preview-tag">Stamina / Preview Image </a> by <a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com">@heavenin--hell</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Rumors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he woke, Izayoi was still slumbering soundly beside him, dead to this world and living solely in the one of her dreams. It was with great care that he eventually untangled himself from her - in their sleep, he’d curled against her side and she’d tangled a hand in his hair, possessive even when unconscious - and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving her to rest in the late hours of the morning.</p><p>His first thought was for his phone, as had become habit over the last month, though not for the sake of his normal routines.</p><p>When he found it where it had been abandoned on the end table beside her couch, he bypassed his morning rituals and went straight into his messages, typing an obligatory text and sending it off without a second thought. There was a gentle <em> swoosh </em> of the app’s tone, and then—</p><p>—an answering ping down the hall, muffled behind a closed door, and followed shortly thereafter by the melody of Izayoi’s laugh.</p><p>      <em> Good morning. </em></p>
<hr/><p>The day began quietly.</p><p>Having no obligations to attend to, both Toga and Izayoi lounged in her living room with their respective breakfasts— or, perhaps more appropriately, their brunches. It was a quarter past eleven and they’d only just now rejoined the land of the living, though neither of them had any designs to go beyond the privacy of her home to see it.</p><p>Izayoi was lying out in full on the couch, having dressed in nothing more than a baggy shirt and elastic leggings, picking at the last fruits of her meal. Toga, however, unlike his partner, didn’t have the luxury of a wardrobe or the permission to change his clothes; the moment she’d seen him bare-chested in her kitchen, piecing apart the raw meats she'd left prepared for him in the fridge, she’d forbidden him that privilege. Shirts were now strictly banned in her household, leaving him bare and objectified to her whims.</p><p>Not that he was complaining.</p><p>They were in companionable silence now, Izayoi watching the drone of the newscycle while he scrolled through headlines on his phone, both of them doing their due diligence despite having the day off. He was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, the coffee table pushed aside so he could spread out his legs while he rested back and read. Occasionally, Izayoi would card her fingers through his hair, but nothing more than that.</p><p>The scene was domestic, at best. This was where they had fallen into place, without thought or gameplay. Having had no desire to ask her to move on his account, Toga had settled down in front of her instead of on the couch, choosing the end where she reclined against the armrest. There were other chairs available, of course, and they were likely more comfortable than the floor, but this had been the best choice. His desire to be close to her aside, his phone had been in dire need of charging and the only cord she had barely reached beyond where she was sitting— so there he sat, just under her, chained to the wall by way of cable.</p><p>As the battery climbed higher and higher on his phone, he made the mistake of thinking that, thankfully, the day seemed quiet.</p><p>The universe answered him with a mocking chime of a breaking newscast, and then his phone started ringing in alarm at the same time, a cacophony of overlapping ringtones and notifications as the world poured itself into his palm.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>The newscast was unable to give him any context because, over all the messages that were severely lagging his phone, his son called.</p><p>Toga answered it without hesitation, casting Izayoi an apologetic look over his shoulder.</p><p>“Sesshomaru.”</p><p>Immediately, Izayoi tried to move to leave, but Toga shook his head, unfolding himself from the ground and squeezing her leg. Indicating for her to watch the news with a nod of his head, he let his hand fall and walked away, pacing through the dining room and into the privacy of the kitchen.</p><p><em> “I’ve spoken with Koga,” </em> Sesshomaru began, without preamble, <em> “It wasn’t his wolves.” </em></p><p>Pretending he knew what the hell was going on, Toga just grunted in the affirmative. In the back of his head, he registered the newscaster in the other room speaking about a shrine break-in. A bunch of wolves had broken into a human shrine?</p><p>“Have you dealt with it, then?”</p><p>Sesshomaru was silent for a moment too long. <em> “...Where are you?” </em></p><p>“None of your business.”</p><p>He could practically hear his son’s expression through the phone, stoic and long-suffering.</p><p>
  <em> “Well, while you were busy with whomever struck your fancy—” </em>
</p><p>“Sesshomaru.”</p><p>
  <em> “—a shrine was attacked by a band of rogue wolves. The Higurashi shrine, to be precise.” </em>
</p><p>Toga’s entire body went tense, and then a flood of mental curses broke out to the wonderful stabbing sensation of a migraine.</p><p><em> “Exactly.” </em> Sesshomaru said, as if able to see how his father had covered his face with his hand. <em> “The child is fine. It appears they followed her home from school. Her mother has not been as diligent with her warding as we thought.” </em> Not sparing him any time to speak, his son answered the questions he knew would follow. <em> “She purified three of the intruders and drove the last half-mad.” </em></p><p>“But?”</p><p>
  <em> “The last went babbling about the Jewel to anyone who’d listen.” </em>
</p><p>He held in his sigh, rubbing his forehead.</p><p>“Wonderful. You’ve dealt with it, I trust?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yes. Presently, in fact.” </em>
</p><p>At least there was that. Toga leaned against the counter, dropping his hand from his face and hinging his palm against the edge as he thought.</p><p>“How old is she now?”</p><p>
  <em> “Six." </em>
</p><p>She must have been frightened out of her mind to be able to purify three full grown yokai at that age, not to mention injuring the last.</p><p>“I’ll speak with her mother—”</p><p>
  <em> “It’s already done.” </em>
</p><p>“I see.” The poor woman was likely a shaking mess if she’d had to bear Sesshomaru’s admonishments, but he supposed there was nothing he could do about that now. “Keep an eye on the girl, in the meantime. I’ll deal with the media.”</p><p>
  <em> “As you say.” </em>
</p><p>Sesshomaru hung up and Toga tossed his phone on the countertop, letting it buzz away. The only person he cared to speak with now was his publicist, but he knew better than to respond to her immediately; if he wanted to keep his eardrums intact, it was best to give her a moment to cool off. This would be an especially large mess. There was no keeping a rumor from spreading in his world.</p><p>
  <em> The Shikon Jewel... </em>
</p><p>Four years ago, he’d walked by the steps of an unassuming shrine on an unassuming street, and had nearly been knocked to his knees by a wave of unbridled power that had lashed out from between the torii gates. Five hundred years before that - give or take - he’d been assuredly told that the source of that power had been expelled from this world forever. That the Priestess of the Shikon no Tama had finally put the souls warring inside the jewel to rest, and that the cycle was broken.</p><p>Apparently, she had not.</p><p>That day he'd had the pleasure of meeting a bright eyed little toddler that would be the next Shikon Priestess, and explained to her family at length what that meant— and what exactly the jewel embedded in her hip would do to any passerby yokai. As it had done to him, it would do to others. It was only a matter of time before someone hunted the child down to claim the jewel for themselves, especially when she posed no threat.</p><p>So he'd warded her family grounds properly, preventing demons access to the shrine, and had provided her mother with concealment charms that would seal the jewel's presence away. So long as no one knew and the little girl wore her wards outside the home, she would be safe. The jewel was a memory to his people, thought lost forever. No one would come seeking it because no one cared to look for things that did not exist.</p><p>What he hadn't accounted for was the stubbornness of a six-year-old child. Knowing the mother had understood the gravity of her daughter's situation, he expected it was the child’s fault that she’d been found out. For whatever hare-brained reason, the girl had probably taken off her wards and been noticed by passersby.</p><p>He shook his head. The workings of a child's mind were beyond him.</p><p>There was a gentle knock on the wall that cordoned off the kitchen from the living room and Toga looked up to see Izayoi peeking around the edge, looking a little hesitant. Seeing his phone discarded on the counter, though, she relaxed a little.</p><p>"Should I call for your clothes?"</p><p>
  <em> Do you have to leave? </em>
</p><p>He shook his head, picking up his vibrating phone with mild annoyance. He pushed the alerts to silent, gesturing vaguely to let her know he'd done so.</p><p>"It depends. What are they saying on your news?"</p><p>"That a demon attacked a small shrine," she said quietly, approaching him and leaning back against the counter where he stood, crossing her arms under her breasts. "No one was hurt and the culprit was found."</p><p>A demon. A single demon. That was worth noting.</p><p>"Did they say why?"</p><p>She shook her head. "Not to the public."</p><p>"What do you know, then?" he asked, her choice of words purposefully transparent.</p><p>"Only that Takemaru did the custody exchange himself. The demon was babbling on about a jewel?"</p><p>Toga nodded. The police commissioner was a shrewd, calculating man he'd dealt with in the past, and while his distaste for yokai was flagrantly clear, he always followed the law to the letter. There were worse people to work with.</p><p>"Keep that to yourself," he advised. He'd have to make sure Takemaru knew the same. "If you don't mind me disappearing for an hour or so to deal with this, I don't see a reason to hurry to get dressed."</p><p>She smiled, understanding. “Use the dining room. I’ll be out here if you need me.”</p>
<hr/><p>Two written statements and one exasperated publicist later, Toga was finally done with his attempts to squash the rumors of the Shikon no Tama for good. They wouldn’t work, he knew, but handling matters like these always done one step at a time.</p><p>First, the human media had to be addressed; an easy task. Knowing nothing of the Jewel, all that they'd wanted was a statement regarding the wolf’s punishment, which was easily sent. Second, the human police were handled: Takemaru was warned not to speak on the wolf’s blabbering and ordered to destroy any security footage containing it, which he had done. And third - most importantly - a statement had been disseminated to the demon lords. It explained things in more detail and addressed the rumors of the Jewel, stating clearly that there was not enough evidence to support the claim that it had returned to the world. It was only barely enough acknowledgement, but it would stave off unrest— for now.</p><p>Pandora's Box had been opened. There was no closing it. There would be those who would seek out the legendary power of the Jewel no matter what was said or done. It meant he would have a more direct approach when dealing with the Higurashi family now, but that was a matter for another day; they were traumatized enough without him knocking on their door. Sesshomaru's watch over them would suffice for the time being.</p><p>Toga leaned back in his chair at Izayoi’s dining table, pushing his fingers through his hair and dropping his phone. Damn modern technology. It had its uses, but he didn’t appreciate being so easily accessible at all times. How long had it been since he’d last held a proper court? A designated place and time for people to air their grievances, and to do so in an orderly fashion— not simply calling after him at their slightest whims. Where had that blessedly boring process gone?</p><p><em>Doesn't matter</em>, he told himself. Those days were bygone and there was no use missing them.</p><p>Toga closed his eyes and rolled his neck, absently massaging his shoulder. He heard Izayoi approaching before she knocked on the wall, but didn’t bother to anticipate her arrival. It would only startle her if he did. Instead, he waited for that gentle interruption before he opened his eyes again, nodding at her expectant glance. She didn’t want to interrupt.</p><p>“It’s done,” he murmured.</p><p>“How bad?”</p><p>Izayoi walked around the table to stand behind his chair, leaning forward and draping her arms around his neck in a loose embrace. He leaned his temple against her cheek when she tilted her head against his, hands splayed flat and warm over his bare chest.</p><p>“Not terrible,” he shrugged. “Dealt with worse.”</p><p>“I’m sure.” She pressed a kiss into his hair, tightening her hold a little as she folded her arms across his chest in the vague resemblance of a hug. “Need a distraction?”</p><p>Toga chuckled. “Did you have something planned?”</p><p>“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I thought we might go out for lunch, but it’s a little late for that now…”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“...and I did plan to return you home before dinner.”</p><p>“Oh?” What a thought. He reached back and brushed her bangs out of her face, tipping his head back to see her, smirking a little. “Whyever would you do that?”</p><p>“You have work tomorrow. It’s only the responsible thing to do.”</p><p>“Hmm…” He traced his claws along the shell of her ear, disguising the action with tucking a lock of her hair behind it. “Remember how I said I don’t get tired? Don’t need to sleep, either.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” she laughed.</p><p>Untangling herself from him, she moved around his chair, taking the liberty to slide into the space between him and the table to sit in his lap. Unconsciously, Toga’s hands fell onto the table, far away from touching her— as he thought he was expected to do. She settled on his thighs, wrapping her arms around his neck and angling her forearms down against the hard chairback.</p><p>“How did you feel about last night?” she asked, none of her body’s sensuality making its way into her eyes. She wasn’t trying to seduce him, regardless of how his thoughts began to wander.</p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p>“I need to hear it,” she insisted. There was no doubt about her sincerity. “This is new to you, and I promised to keep you safe.”</p><p>It was true. Exceptional recall being as it was, he remembered their agreement with full clarity, though he didn’t bother reciting it. It was something to the effect of her promising to preserve and maintain his mental and physical well being. In short: he was to submit and she was responsible for him in his vulnerability and in all facets of their relationship. There was little subtly in that, though he supposed there was plenty of nuance.</p><p>“You did,” he said, seeking to reassure her. “It was… exhilarating. Challenging, I suppose.” Not terribly so, but more than he was used to in that context. “You haven’t scared me off, yet.”</p><p>Izayoi smiled, tilting her head as she regarded him. “Do you want to try something more?”</p><p><em> More. </em> What they’d done was only the tip of the iceberg, he knew. An amateur’s game, if the depths of his research had anything to say about it. In some distant sense, he respected her attitude. Understood it, even: that need for explicit communication, wanting to make sure one's partner was comfortable. But he couldn’t help feeling like he was being underestimated— or worse, coddled. He was a daiyokai. The <em> Inu no Taisho</em>. Some primal, demanding part of his ego refused to be pitied or handled like glass.</p><p>“What I want is for you to try and scare me off,” he dared, openly taunting her. “If you even can, that is.”</p><p>There was only a moment where she stared at him in shock, and he almost laughed— almost, but then there was a hand in his hair, a sharp tug, and he was looking at the ceiling, the sound dying in his throat with an abrupt cut-off.</p><p>“What did you say to me?”</p><p>Neck arched back and a grin splitting across his face, he managed a breathy chuckle, only to be rewarded with another sharp tug of his hair. This was better.</p><p>“I said—”</p><p>“Shut up.” His jaw clicked shut at the command and he swallowed his laugh, glad that he’d been able to rile her up so easily. In the same fluid movement, she released his hair and shoved herself off of him, stepping aside. “Brat.”</p><p>Watching her with open interest as she righted her shirt and pulled her hair over her shoulder, Toga didn’t speak, satisfied with the results he’d garnered. Whether or not his taunts had earned him a punishment, he wouldn’t allow his abilities to be misrepresented by her assumptions. Izayoi had plenty to learn about demonkind, and even more about him. That much was clear. And he was more than happy to be her teacher.</p><p>Izayoi’s returning glare was sharp, but he wasn’t fooled; there was excitement brewing in her eyes, veiled behind her false offense.</p><p>“Stay there and be quiet,” she commanded, and he made a small show of settling back in the chair. “Close your eyes.”</p><p>He complied, though not without a little regret. Unable to see her, he focused instead on her sounds: the gentle padding of her bare feet across the floors, guiding her out of the room and into the rest of the apartment, leading towards the bedrooms. A pinpad beeped - <em>a lock?</em> - and a door opened, and he thought he heard another distant click of another lock unclasping, followed by some rummaging about. What her procurements were, he couldn’t fathom; they didn’t make any noise.</p><p>Then she was back, setting something down in silence and standing in front of him, just to the side of the table.</p><p>“Push out your chair.”</p><p>He did, pushing his heel into the floor to scrape the chair harmlessly backwards, pressed a few feet away from the edge of the table. Eyes still closed, all he could do was wait.</p><p>Izayoi moved, circling behind him, and then there was a feeling of silk on skin— a blindfold lowered over his eyes and tied snuggly behind his head, tugged and tightly secured. Not a new sensation in the slightest, but it was promising. He wasn’t done testing her, however.</p><p>“If you think I haven’t been—”</p><p>Her hand flew to his mouth, two fingers hooking roughly between his lips and pressing down on his tongue, silencing him. He almost choked on the sensation, surprised by her confidence and dangerous disregard for his fangs, but the taste of her skin was enough to distract him. Besides the taste of her, there were the distant, lingering flavors of fruit, evidence of the picked-at portions of her breakfast. It was hard to be miffed at her assault with that sweetness pressed over his senses, but the sharp tug of her hand was reminder enough.</p><p>She leaned in over his shoulder, hovering near his ear.</p><p>“Did I give you permission to speak?”</p><p>He shook his head, but she gave him a little shake to prompt his voice. Embarrassingly, he could only manage a slight grunt in the negative, a poor attempt at the word ‘no.’</p><p>“No?”</p><p>Again, the grunt, followed by the parody of the word ‘ma’am,’ indicated only by the cadence of his tone and the movement of his lips.</p><p>“That’s what I thought.” She withdrew her hand and robbed him of her taste, wiping her fingers off on his shoulder as he closed his mouth. “Talk again and I’ll gag you.”</p><p>It was impossible to decide if that was a threat or a promise. He supposed it was up to him to decide.</p><p>“Sit up straight.”</p><p>He did, guided by her hands on his shoulders, pressing his back against the chair. Then her touch was gone, ghosting away from his mind’s eye with the loss of contact. He could pinpoint her position near the table by ear alone, but again, he couldn’t identify what exactly she’d placed there. Whatever she picked up had to be fabric, or at least something soft; it didn’t make any hard noises against anything it touched.</p><p>Then she was back behind him, armed with her secret weapons.</p><p>“Arms back,” she instructed. “Over the chair.”</p><p>He complied, hooking his arms backwards over the edge of the chair, suddenly more aware of this singular piece of furniture than any other in the past century. He was tall enough and the chair back low enough that doing so wasn’t an awkward effort, the topmost edge of it digging in just below the line where his arms hinged on his torso. The polished, expensive wood pressed against his skin without discomfort.</p><p>Then there was a light <em>thud</em> of something hitting the floor, and Izayoi’s hands re-appeared in his mind’s eye as she touched his arms. It was just her hands at first, guiding him to hold his own hands together behind his back, but then—</p><p>Rope.</p><p>He bit down on his cheek to keep himself from saying anything, amused. This was her idea of ramping it up a notch?</p><p>“I know you can break these,” she said, as if reading the mood of his thoughts. “There will be consequences if you do.”</p><p>
  <em> Will there? </em>
</p><p>He was tempted, so tempted to break whatever bonds she made, if only to push her over whatever the next edge was. Some part of him was longing for an actual challenge— to see what her true form was, in a sense, no matter the consequence.</p><p>Biting back the urge, Toga forced himself steady as she began to loop the rope around his arms. The feeling was immediately distracting, but not because he was being bound. It was because the rope she was using was the thinnest, weakest stretch of coil he thought he’d ever encountered in his life. No better than woven straw, it would surely fall apart with only a single purposeful flex. It was practically dental floss, hardly a finger’s width in size.</p><p>“Break these,” she murmured, and he realized in vague horror what her angle was, “and you won’t be touching anything for a month.” She tugged a coil snug around his wrists, caging his fist in the loose cradle of his other hand as she wrapped the rope around itself, creating a cinch in the cuff between the heels of his palms. “Including yourself.”</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>And where he expected her to stop, she continued, drawing more loops around his arms to bind them together. There was another set placed just below his elbows with the same length of rope, drawn up and stacked in four coils that met in the middle, connected and knotted at the mid-points between his arms. That was repeated again above his elbows, snaked tightly around his lower arms, forcing a slight bend. It wasn’t until she bound his upper arms - forcing his chest out and his shoulders back, arching his spine - that he realized what she was doing:</p><p>Binding him in a fashion that seemed entirely, unmistakably, feminine.</p><p>If he had breasts, they’d be on full presentation now. The position wasn’t lost on him. It sent his mind tumbling— was Izayoi trying to insult him, or did she prefer her bound partners stylized the same way? Or, perhaps, had she only tied women in the past? Or had this been the way <em>she</em> had been bound?</p><p>Well, that was certainly a thought he’d like to pursue. Maybe if he was good, she’d let him—</p><p><em>If he was good?</em> What the hell?</p><p>A tug of rope distracted him out of his thoughts, a sharp pressure poking his spine. Every tug and pull fell into a steady rhythm he was catching onto, a series of movements that was easy enough to follow: coil, tug, push and pull, secure. The rope itself was soft enough, biting into his skin only with pressure, and she seemed to be aware of what was too much or not enough after her first few knots. Somewhere between the first and latest bonds, she’d found a state of tension that wouldn’t break under any human force, but if he pressed at all with his own…</p><p>Well, it would all unravel in an instant.</p><p>He had been tied before - with far more effectiveness towards actual restraint - but for some reason, this felt entirely different. She was taking her time. Careful, purposeful and stern, her ropes dug into his skin more artfully than strictly necessary for any sexual act. Nothing about it detracted from the sexual context, of course, but there was an added layer he couldn’t define about her actions.</p><p>A new rope appeared, settling heavy in his lap despite its light weight, pulling taut around his waist and forcing him flat back against the chair again. The arch of his spine stiffened with the movement, becoming slightly more punctuated in his chest. Izayoi’s hands and fingers slid over his skin from where she reached between the gaps in the chairback’s design, drawing the rope over him in the same multi-coil stacks that decorated his arms. The edge of the rope prickled against the highest points of his hip markings, a static sensation that buzzed through his nerves. He realized then, when his arms suddenly seemed anchored, that she’d properly secured him to the chair; the belt of rope around his abdomen had been tied around the vertical ropes of his arms.</p><p>Suddenly, her hands disappeared, leaving him alone with the image of himself bound at the dining table, sitting bereft in the darkness of his mind’s eye. He followed the sound of her footsteps across the floor as she stopped to stand in front of him, pausing a moment in what he imagined was a thorough review.</p><p>“If anything goes numb, tell me,” she said, reaching out and holding his chin, pressing her thumb against his bottom lip. The image of her returned to him, though only her hand; the rest of her was murky and unclear, fogged by the dark. “Understand?”</p><p>Nothing would, but he understood why she was asking. “Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>Her hand disappeared and then her foot was on his knee, pressing his leg aside, over the corner of the seat and to the side. His other leg mirrored the movement, not needing instruction.</p><p>“Keep them apart.”</p><p>He wondered if she was going to bind his legs next - a horrifying premonition of the chair legs snapping out from underneath him came to mind - but it seemed she had other plans. There was a brief shifting of fabric, the odd sound of elastic leggings being pushed and peeled away, and then she returned to him, her body settling over his thighs as she sat on his lap, fitting him and his chair neatly between her legs.</p><p>Damn his sweatpants.</p><p>Izayoi’s weight was warm and welcome as she leaned forward, and, sadly, he realized she was still wearing her shirt, dispelling the nude fantasy he’d begun concocting. The thin fabric pressed mockingly against his bare chest, the hem of it brushing over the rope around his abdomen.</p><p>“I noticed,” she murmured, seeming softer now, molding against his body, “that your markings make you shiver.”</p><p>The furrow of his brow against the blindfold must’ve been answer enough, because she was responding to that silent protest, hooking one arm around his neck and ghosting a single finger over the stripes on his opposite shoulder. With purposeful, flighting strokes, she dragged her finger up and back, over and across, leaving prickling trails of heat over indigo skin. It took every modicum of self control he had not to shiver— but that he <em>felt</em> the urge was enough to prove her point, he supposed. In the darkness behind his eyelids, it was hard to escape the sensation. On his shoulder, on his face, until her hand dropped down and she was skating her fingernails across the one on his hips, partially hidden by rope.</p><p>Then, he finally shuddered.</p><p>“I’ve heard rumors about demons...” she mused, not bothering to hide her prideful tone, and the way she tipped her hips up against him made his head spin. “That they’re more sensitive to the world.”</p><p>The hand on his hip slipped away and dipped into the empty space between his legs, between hers, leaving him lingering without explanation until it was rising back up and—</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“Is it true?”</p><p>That smell again. The slick scent of her, a physical desire that she was holding up to him now, just inches from his face. He could invent the image of her hand in his mind, her fingers gleaming wet in the soft light, and he wondered how long she’d been like that— if tying him had made her wet, slipping ropes over his body and tying knots against his skin, locking him down in place under her control. Because in his mind, her fingers were dripping, and he couldn’t escape the urge to clean them himself, to take her fingers in his mouth and suck them dry.</p><p>“You enjoyed this, last night,” she whispered. He shifted underneath her, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but now he was remembering the night before. Her taste on his tongue, her slickness on his mouth. “More than most everyone else I’ve ever met.”</p><p>Oh, he wasn’t a fan of that thought. <em>Others.</em> Give him the year and she wouldn’t remember any of them.</p><p>“Is it the taste? The smell?”</p><p>Agonizingly, she pressed a single finger to the cleft of his lips, and his tongue flicked out unbidden, catching the taste of her against her nail. She <em>was</em> dripping.</p><p>“Both,” he grumbled, thoughtless, and she hummed, pressing her finger against his lip once before ripping it away. It took all his effort not to groan.</p><p>“Then what about this?” she wondered, “What does this do to you?”</p><p>She unwound her arm from his shoulders, leaned back on his thighs, and held something in front of his face. Fabric brushed against his cheek, paper-thin and incredibly soft. Whatever it was, it smelled like her— distinctly, overwhelmingly so. Her wetness was most prominent, but it was also just <em>her</em>, without any layer of fragrance.</p><p>“I told you not to speak,” she murmured, and that was the hint that tipped him off.</p><p>
  <em> “Talk again and I’ll gag you.” </em>
</p><p>Then she was pressing her panties between his lips, shoving them into his mouth, and it was an explosion of sensation all at once. Beside the taste of her, besides the fact he was being <em>gagged,</em> there was also a creeping sensation of horror that came with the realization that he was not, in fact, incensed by this. No; he was unavoidably, appallingly turned on. A human woman had tied him down and shoved her panties in his mouth, and he was <em>turned on. </em></p><p>Who the hell was she turning him into?</p><p>Pride wouldn’t allow him to give in to her taste, wouldn’t let him fall for the sharp scent coating his tongue and the back of his throat, but he couldn’t reject her, either. It was growing increasingly impossible to ignore the arousal rising between his legs, and she was presently testing his limits. Taunting him for taunting her.</p><p>If he really wanted to stop this, he could. Gagged or not, the tone and cadence of even attempting to say the word ‘indigo’ would stop her in her tracks, and he could gather up his dignity and walk right out the door if he was so deeply offended.</p><p>But… he wasn’t.</p><p>Well, a part of him was. The Inu no Taisho was mortally wounded by this attack on his person and character, but Toga was finding it difficult to care. The ropes biting into his skin were inconsequential, the undergarments in his mouth were strangely sweet, and the only thing that really mattered was this woman in his lap and all her challenges for him.</p><p>“Just because you’re demon doesn’t mean you’re better than me,” Izayoi was saying, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling back, arching his neck to match the curve of his spine. “I seem to remember you agreeing to respect me.” She pressed a kiss to his throat, nipping lightly against his pulse. He swallowed hard against the feeling of her mouth, doing his very best not to embarrass himself. “What does the non-disclosure say you’ll do? Remind me.”</p><p>Without hesitation, he was already recalling the clause in question. But he didn’t speak, because one, he wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, and two, there was a pair of panties in his mouth.</p><p>“Toga,” Izayoi breathed, prompting him. “Speak.”</p><p>Luckily, he wasn’t dumb enough to try and push out the gag, even though he felt a part of his soul die at being ordered like a dog.</p><p>“Treat you with respect, deference, and obedience,” he tried to say, but it came out rather like— well, like he was trying to speak with a wad of wet fabric shoved in his mouth. The muffled syllables must’ve proved satisfactory enough, though, because Izayoi was humming with agreement.</p><p>“Mm-hm. And is taunting me respectful?”</p><p>He shook his head as best he could with her hand fisted in his hair.</p><p>“Good. You’re learning.”</p><p>Pulling back slightly, Izayoi twisted so she could nip at his earlobe, swirling her tongue over the shell of his ear.</p><p>“Look at you, Inu no Taisho,” she whispered, letting her other hand slip down, dragging her fingers over his exposed chest. Her touch felt like burning ice, her breath curling through his body and falling straight into his core. “What would others do if they saw you like this?”</p><p><em>Nothing good. </em>Not that he cared. Not now, with her fingertips on his stomach, brushing down along his waistband, delving into the hollow between their bodies and dipping deeper, brushing so close. Every muscle in his body flexed against the ropes binding him, hips convulsing as she took him in hand.</p><p>Her thumb brushed over his soft head and he was unraveling already, tensing against his bonds. He groaned, a sound of pure want muffled behind fabric, a sharp breath pulled in through his nose— bringing her scent back into him in a wave, crashing against the heavy musk coating his throat.</p><p>“Not so fast,” she murmured, letting him move his hips, pressing himself long against the velvet touch of her palm. In the darkness behind his blindfold, her kisses felt molten against his neck. “You think you deserve this? After being so rude?”</p><p>He wanted to speak. He wanted to apologize. If it meant he could find some relief, he’d say whatever she desired. Yet all he could do was groan, trying to express his lust in a single, strangled tone.</p><p>Finally, her hold on his hair loosed and she pulled back, letting that hand fall to his chest, fingers biting mercilessly into one nipple as the other worked him, helping him rise fully to her occasion. An electric shock burrowed all the way down into the base of his spine as she began a rhythm, spreading out in a spiderweb of pleasure that burned through his nerves.</p><p>Toga jerked against her and she picked up her pace.</p><p><em>She’s going to be my undoing. </em>He was certain of it. Every time she touched him, it felt like dying, even though they barely knew each other. What had it been? A month? Two? In so little time she’d had him on his knees, had him bound, had him leashed.</p><p>Then she shifted, pressed his hardness down, guided him into place and all the sudden he was pressed up against her slick, nestled between her legs. Her hand was gone and both were on his shoulders now, digging fingernails into his stripes as she slowly, agonizingly slipped her hips over him. <em> Fuck, fuck fuck fuck— </em></p><p>Ropes bit into his wrists as he twisted against that wonderful friction, head dipping forward now that he was finally free of her grip.</p><p>“You want more?” she moaned, angling against him again, hard and sharp and wanting. She drew herself close, pillowing her breasts against his bare chest, letting her hands fall down to the coiled ropes around his upper arms as she dug her fingernails deep into the seams. When had she removed her shirt?</p><p>He nodded, helpless and desperate. She was so hot, so soft, so <em> wet. </em> If he didn’t find his way inside of her, he was fairly certain the world would come to its end, by his hands or another’s.</p><p>“Why should I give it to you?” Blessed, merciful fingers unfurled the gag from his mouth and tossed it aside, damp and forgotten as he gasped for breath. She raked her hands through his hair again, catching on the knot of the blindfold tangled up in silver. “Speak.”</p><p>“Shit,” was the first eloquent word that flew from his mouth, and she laughed. Even through the haze of lust she sounded like a song.</p><p>“Tell me what you want,” Izayoi was shaking, trembling, legs quaking with desire as she slid over him again, slicking him wet. She needed it as much as he did.</p><p>“I—” Her hand slipped between them and he knew what she was doing, recognized the swirling axis of her wrist against his abdomen, the back of her fingers against his shaft as she touched herself, touched him in the process. “I want you.”</p><p>“What about me?”</p><p>
  <em> I want to fuck you— hold you— touch you— I want your— </em>
</p><p>A hundred vulgar terms of want threatened to roll off his tongue, but he didn’t dare let them, because she deserved better than that.</p><p>“Just,” <em>Gods, </em>she was destroying him. “Just fuck me, Izayoi.”</p><p>Then she was sliding him inside, he was burying his face in the crook of her neck, and she was moaning— He couldn’t tell who was trembling more, but it didn’t matter, because she was spreading around him, warm, blossoming and drawing him in whole. It was the first time he’d been inside her since their tryst and he didn’t remember it being like this, didn’t remember it feeling so much like a drug.</p><p>“Is that really what you want to say?” he was sheathed in her and she was quaking, but she was holding herself still over him, a hand splayed across his neck as he groaned.</p><p>“Ma’am.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>She wanted him to beg.</p><p>So he did.</p><p>“Please, ma’am,” his dignity died and he was vulnerable, barely himself, speaking with a voice that didn’t sound familiar. Weak and longing, wanting and desperate, he cut out a part of himself and held it in his mouth, giving it to her, bleeding. “Fuck me.”</p><p>Izayoi’s hips moved, and she did.</p>
<hr/><p>In the throws of orgasm, Toga’s bonds hadn’t stood a chance.</p><p>Five minutes after he’d broken free, they were still tangled up in each other’s arms, looking a beautiful mess in her dining room. He was still buried deep within her, twitching with every convulsive, tantalizing aftershock that chased through her core. They were clinging to each other, his arms wound tight around her tiny frame and hers twined around his neck, sweat-slicked and shivering as they rode out the very last pangs of pleasure. Ropes dangled from his forearms and biceps, draping over them both in tattered, uneven strands. His blindfold lay in a tiny heap on the floor, long forgotten.</p><p>At least he hadn’t broken the chair.</p><p>Izayoi nuzzled into his hair, practically thrumming with contentment. Despite her warning, she didn’t seem particularly upset about him breaking free. In fact, she’d been quite elated when he’d grabbed her hips and bore into her moments before, laughing and moaning at the same time before he’d even realized what he’d done.</p><p>Toga pressed a kiss into the hollow of her throat, sighing gently against her skin. She returned it by pressing the same into his scalp, wiggling lightly in a way that sent languid, electric shocks up through his spine.</p><p>“Let’s go lay down,” she whispered, as if speaking too loudly would somehow shatter their afterglow. “C’mon.”</p><p>Toga heard himself groan as she lifted herself away with a lewd slicking sound, shivering lightly against him with the movement. He felt like he was drifting, listing into the temptation of sleep, but then her hands were gently freeing the last tattered remains of his ropes, tugging them loose and letting them fall to the ground. Then she was dragging him up, coaxing him to his feet, and he was blearily pulling his waistband back up his hips.</p><p>“Are you all right?” she wondered, lacing their fingers, leading him across cool kitchen floors and into the living room. He squeezed her hand in return, their palms flat together as he locked his fingers over hers.</p><p>“‘M fine.” Toga let her lead him, feeling a little numb again, like he had the night before. Still, a few muzzy thoughts managed to creep into the front of his mind, the reminder of her warnings at the beginning of their game. “I thought if I…”</p><p>He’d broken his bonds. By her own words, he’d lost the privilege to touch her. But she was still drawing him in, letting him touch her and returning his affections.</p><p>Izayoi shook her head as she pushed him gently down onto the couch, guiding him to stretch out longways on his side as she lay down beside him. Fighting with the cushions for only a brief moment, she soon had herself resting against the armrest, one smooth arm twined around his neck and drawing him in along the curve of her body. He was half laying ontop of her, his head resting heavy on her shoulder and his nose brushing her breast, coaxing him to relax with a gentle nudge of her nose against his temple. The fact that she had managed to slip her shirt back on outside his notice was both impressive and frustrating.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that right now,” she murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “Later. Once you go. But right now this is more important.”</p><p>“What is?” He lifted one knee and brought his leg to rest over both of hers, effectively caging her in his embrace while also allowing himself to be tangled up in hers. His arm stretched across her belly until his hand dangled off the edge of the couch, her own resting just above his.</p><p>“Taking care of you.”</p><p>He didn’t understand. Not entirely. Even as he settled in and enveloped himself in her warmth, her careful regard seemed strange to him, somehow out of place. Maybe he just wasn’t used to being cared for. His thoughts must’ve shown on her face, because she kept speaking, brushing his bangs back out of his eyes.</p><p>“Have you heard of ‘bottoming out?’” she wondered.</p><p>He shook his head, leaning forward to pillow his head against her breast. Her hand fell out of his hair.</p><p>“Sometimes when people let go, they can crash after the game is over. Emotionally and physically. You feel…” she paused, searching for her words, tracing a shivering circle between his shoulders with the arm behind his neck. “Hollow. Abandoned. I don’t think you’ve really let go yet, but the possibility is still there. And it’s worse if you’re alone.”</p><p>“Let go?” It wasn’t hard to assume what she was referencing, but he was more than happy to listen to her talk. The steady sound of her heartbeat under his ear was ten times more soothing when buffeted by the sound of her voice.</p><p>“It’s hard to explain,” she began thoughtfully. “It’s a headspace you can reach when you let go of everything. When you just give in to the other person.” Her fingers drifted up and down his spine, calming with their softness. “I’ll get you there, one day. Maybe. It’s up to you, really.”</p><p><em> Up to me. </em> He knew he’d given her a lot already, on paper or otherwise, but the idea that there was more to give was interesting. He understood it, but only in concept.</p><p>“You’ve let go, before,” he surmised.</p><p>She nodded. “Always. I try to, at least.”</p><p>“And you’ve bottomed out.”</p><p>He wasn’t asking questions. He was just stating what he saw in her face, the nuances hidden in the tone of her voice. She didn’t seem particularly surprised by it, but the mention did evoke some shadow of sadness. He’d struck a nerve.</p><p>“It’s all right, it’s none of my—” he started to say, guilted by her sorrow, but she was already telling him.</p><p>“A few times, with someone else,” she admitted, beginning to drift. “It’s normal. Nothing to worry about, most of the time. But whenever it happened to me, I was alone.” There was a downturn in her expression that caught in his chest, stirring a protectiveness he hadn’t felt in a while. “It’s a horrible feeling.”</p><p>Unable to help himself, he tightened his hold over her, possessive.</p><p>“I won’t let that happen to anyone,” she continued, wiggling lightly in his embrace. While distant, her smile seemed grateful, if not a little sad. “That includes you.”</p><p>“You don’t need to worry about me.”</p><p>Even as every touch she paid him chased away his numbness, settling him in a place that was only warm and comforting, he believed that.</p><p>“Maybe not. But you might as well enjoy it while it lasts,” she teased, pulling out her memories as her smile finally reached her eyes, “because once you leave, the game’s back on.”</p><p>He groaned in defeat and she laughed, nudging his head with her nose.</p><p>“A whole month,” she mused, needling him. “No touching. I wonder if you’ll make it.”</p><p>“You said ‘ <em> a </em> month,’” he reminded her, craning his neck back to get a good look at her face. Her eyes were sparkling. “This month, I take it.”</p><p>Which would only be a little over two weeks, if he remembered correctly.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she sang, reaching up with the hand behind him to brush her knuckles across his face markings, laughing a little when he turned his head to nip at her. “Sounds like thirty days to me.”</p><p>“I disagree,” he countered, though without any real edge. Izayoi hummed, twisting in to get a better look at him.</p><p>“I suppose we’ll have to see how you behave, won’t we?”</p><p>The rumble that escaped him wasn’t exactly a growl, but it wasn’t pure contentment either.</p><p>“Well, then, if we can’t agree…” He darted in to kiss her neck and she tipped her head back to allow it, letting him press his lips against the hollow arch of her throat and shoulder. “I suppose I’ll just have to stay, then.”</p><p>“The entire month?” she asked, playful surprise catching at the edge of her soft gasp. “Don’t you have a meeting at the consulate in the morning?”</p><p>“You think I give a damn about that?”</p><p>“I think,” she murmured, gently pushing him and his lips away from her fluttering pulse, “that you’re not going to skip any meetings this week. Or next week.” He stared up at her as she traced a finger over the edge of his ear, grazing along the point and chasing back down to the lobe. “You’ll attend them all. Especially the ones you hate.”</p><p>“Will I?” he asked, one brow arching skeptically. “And why would I do that?”</p><p>“Because I’m telling you to.”</p><p><em> Oh. </em> Playful expression aside, she was being serious.</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” he groaned.</p><p>Meetings were the bane of his existence. She knew it. Everyone knew it. When he actually showed up to one that usually meant there was a problem. The entire building would be in a panic if he actually attended everything on his schedule.</p><p>Izayoi, however, didn’t care.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He groaned again, nearly petulant in tone, letting his cheek fall against her shoulder in defeat.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Ugh.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For reference, this story takes place somewhere between 2010 and 2020. This changes Kagome's birthdate significantly, but everything else is otherwise the same.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Untouchable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A month - in its indeterminate length - came and went in agony.</p><p>Agony, perhaps, was a bit of an overstatement; a dramatic flair to highlight his frustrations. Izayoi had kept her word, and he his. They hadn’t touched each other in weeks and he’d not touched himself the same.</p><p>When he’d left her apartment two weeks ago, he’d been confident that the challenge wouldn’t prove too daunting. He had self control. He wasn’t an <em> animal. </em> At worst, he was facing four weeks of some minor frustrations, and that would be it.</p><p>The first week had been fine. They kept their normal rhythm over text message, uninterrupted by the happenings of the real world, and he distracted himself with his work. Namely, by attending all the meetings she’d forced him to go to, which had frightened his staff half to death. However, productivity had gone through the roof in only a few days; Toga might actually consider attending them more often if that was the result of his brooding presence.</p><p>The second week, however, had been a bit more difficult. Not through any fault of his own, of course. It started just the same as any other week, his days went by just as tediously, but when he pushed open the door to his home on Tuesday night, he received a photo message without explanation.</p><p>A certain sort of photo message that had him cursing Izayoi’s name.</p><p>She wasn’t nude - no, that wasn’t her style - but she was barely clad, wrapped in a towel in her small bathroom and posing in the mirror. The photo cut her off at the neck, because it wasn’t wise for either of them to be sending pictures of their faces, but that wasn’t the point, anyway. The point was the swell of her breasts against the hem of the fabric, the curve of her waist, and the long, smooth stretch of her bare legs. The damp hair swept over her shoulder and the choreographed tilt of her neck. The tapered, manicured points of her red fingernails around her phone. Izayoi was a perfect picture of temptation.</p><p>It was enough to get him thinking, but not enough to break him. And it would’ve stayed that way if that were the only picture. Truly, it would’ve. But it wasn’t.</p><p>In the middle of a meeting on Wednesday morning he got a photo of her dining room chair. Just the chair. Nothing particularly posed or interesting about it, but it did elicit a specific memory and, obviously, that was her intention. Ten minutes later she sent him a picture of a few tattered red ropes woven through her fingers to drive home her point and he nearly choked on his tongue.</p><p>Later that evening she sent a photo of herself sitting in that chair, wearing the same shirt as before and nothing beneath it, and he wanted to throw his phone.</p><p>On Thursday, after his <em> good morning </em> , she sent him another bathroom photo again. Fresh out of the shower, this one featured her with her exposed back to the mirror, her towel sweeping dangerously low around the swell of her buttocks as she held her phone up over her shoulder. Her hair looped carelessly below it, a few errand strands slipping free to cascade long down her back, and the thought of running his fingers through it crossed his mind. Touching her, casting away the towel, taking her in his arms and—</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>He tossed his phone aside on the kitchen counter only for it to buzz again a few moments later.</p><p>      <em> Don’t like what you see? </em></p><p>Cursing mentally, quickly growing frustrated, Toga began to type out a response. But a thought came to mind before he pressed send.</p><p>Two could play this game.</p><p>He took to his own bathroom and ripped his shirt off in a quick sweep, declaring war with a fatal snap of his camera.</p>
<hr/><p>It was a war he might lose.</p><p>That would definitely be a first.</p><p>The battle, as subtle and nuanced as it was, lasted through the third week. Their stream of text messages shifted from the normal rhythm and became a constant volley of photos, faceless images that tempted and twisted them into knots. His only reprieve was the time between <em> good night </em> and <em> good morning, </em> but even then, the game began anew only seconds after he greeted her in the mornings.</p><p>On the second Saturday since he’d broken the rules, she went swimsuit shopping. His opinion on each item seemed very, <em> very </em> important to her, and no detail was worth omitting. No angle worth going unchecked.</p><p>On Sunday, she went to the beach with her friends and made certain thar he knew everyone could see her— everyone except for him, of course. The sunset was beautiful in her photos, but he was far more interested in what was behind the camera. What everyone there could see, could experience. What she denied him.</p><p>On Monday, he got fitted for a new suit. In the same way she’d barraged him with photos from dressing rooms two days prior, he flooded her phone with images of him. Of the pressed, tailored hems of the clothing, of the undone buttons at his throat, the shade of his shirt not so different from the one she’d had him wear when he’d been kneeling beside her bed.</p><p>On Tuesday, he followed that up with photos from inside his private dojo, nestled far outside the city in the mountains of the countryside. She saw the before and after of swordplay, and then the hunt that came next. He wasn’t so crass as to send her anything bloody, but there might have been a flake of red beneath his claws and a purposeful, sweat-slick sheen over his bare chest. Perhaps he’d tied his hakama a bit lower than normal around his hips.</p><p>On Wednesday, she went to the hardware store and asked for his opinion on the strength of various ropes and chains. The texts came to him in the middle of a conference call with Toran, of all people. He wouldn’t admit that he’d nearly flushed at the prospect, of course, but he was also <em> very </em> grateful that he hadn't been in a video conference. A sentiment he only doubled-down on when she’d started sending him photos of the ropes in her hand, flagrant and sensual without being in the least bit explicit. That <em> definitely </em> didn’t get his mind spinning.</p><p>On Thursday, he sent her a single photo in the morning from inside the shower and then nothing else.</p><p>On Friday, she went <em> lingerie </em> shopping and he nearly fell out of his chair.</p><p>Maybe that had been the nail in the proverbial coffin. He wasn’t entirely sure. It was impossible to know, because every moment outside of work was usually spent in a state of bored frustration, the rest of the world quickly becoming grey and disinteresting. Where he might’ve found bland interest in the news before, he now no longer had the patience for it. Reading for leisure had lost its attraction years ago. The only thing he really cared for was his phone, for the woman who kept tormenting him through it, and he couldn’t even have her.</p><p>Loneliness wasn’t an apt description of what he was feeling. Frustration certainly was, but there was nothing he could do to rectify the problem. For every photo she sent him - for every photo he sent, in fact - he only wanted her more, and he couldn’t even retreat to a private moment to take the edge off. Couldn’t ignore how his bed felt somewhat empty, despite the fact he’d been alone in it for years.</p><p>It wasn’t even his bed they occupied together, but all the same…</p><p>
  <em> Damn. </em>
</p><p>Had he ever wanted someone more? Or was this all merely the side effect of being denied something that he knew could be his? There were, subjectively, more beautiful women in this world. Women that were attainable. Izayoi, unlike them, was human. Common. Temporary. Nothing special.</p><p>
  <em> But. </em>
</p><p>But she was unique. Fragile, like stained glass; she was walking artistry, changing the colors of the rooms she walked in, inspiring awe and reverence from him in a way few things did. Her hair gleamed like purple glass against the sun and her voice was a melody, a choir, entracing even when it was demanding. Her touch, her games, her laugh— all addictive, all unmatched, all deserving of worship.</p><p>No, he was <em> not </em> lonely. Not helpless. Only frustrated.</p><p>And then on Saturday afternoon, a scant ten days before the end of her thirty day mark, she finally sent him an invitation.</p><p>      <em> Get over here. </em></p><p>He didn’t dawdle. Despising the fact he couldn’t even drive his own car to her building, forced to take public means of transport and suffer through human crowds and speeds, he managed to get to her doorstep within thirty minutes. Shifting his weight to appear more leisurely, he rapped his knuckles against her door.</p><p>“Come in,” she called back.</p><p>He pushed open the door and stepped inside without hesitation, closing it behind him with a sound <em> click. </em> Izayoi was sitting on the couch, twisted to look over the back of it as he entered her home. Without a word, she watched him slip off his shoes and remove his concealment charm, eyes following his hand as he shoved the necklace in his pocket. Her expression remained dispassionate all the while but he could see the interest sparkling in her eyes, not even slightly dulled when her eyebrow arched in warning. He paused in the step he’d been taking, returning her look with a quizzical shuffling of his brow.</p><p>Apparently she wasn’t going to tell him what line he was about to cross. But her gaze flicked down to his shirt, giving him enough of an answer. So she’d been serious about him not wearing a shirt, after all.</p><p>Chuckling, he undid his buttons one at a time, hardly rushing now that he knew her eyes were on him. Mindful of his claws, he even bothered with undoing the buttons of his cuffs, if only to extend the process longer. Izayoi gave him a <em> look </em> , wherein he did his very best not to smirk, but it was a futile attempt.</p><p>Soon he was shrugging out of his shirt and hanging it on the wall where a jacket would go, not minding this rule in the slightest.</p><p>“Hello to you, too,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes with a small smile.</p><p>“Hello, Toga,” she acknowledged. “Now come here.”</p><p>He was more than happy to comply, shoving his hands in his pockets and striding across the apartment to join her on the couch. Despite the fact he wanted nothing more than to pin her down to the cushions and see exactly which of those ten lingerie sets she had chosen today, he restrained himself, standing over her and waiting for instruction.</p><p>There was some hope of salvaging his battle plans, but it wasn’t much. Because he realized he didn’t need to pin her down and strip her to find out exactly what she was wearing underneath.</p><p>It was already on full display.</p><p>He swallowed hard and she smiled up at him, smug and graceful, leaning her head into the palm of one hand as the fingers of the other settled on her thigh. There was a blanket over her legs, but it barely covered anything. Black lace peeked out over its plush hem, instantly sparking the memory of her photo op in a dimly-lit, overly decorated dressing room.</p><p>His mouth went dry.</p><p>“Well?” she wondered, smiling coyly. Her chest rose softly with the cadence of her voice, plump breasts hardly contained within the sheer confines of her bra. But he didn’t miss how her eyes trailed over him as well, tracing the indigo paths of his stripes over his shoulders and hips. “Are you going to just stand over me, or…?”</p><p>He shrugged, making a point to flex his shoulders on the decline. She didn’t seem to expect that response - or rather, the lack thereof - and tilted her head slightly, watching him.</p><p>“It hasn’t been a month,” he pointed out. “I wouldn’t want to overstep my bounds.”</p><p>Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and she leaned back, exposing the point of a high-heeled shoe beneath the edge of her blanket as it shifted. Toga tried not to let his eyes wander too long, but failed spectacularly in doing that.</p><p>“I don’t recall saying you couldn’t sit,” she countered, now pushing her leg further out from underneath her blankets, having easily noticed where his eyes were lingering. His gaze flicked away in an instant. “So sit.”</p><p>He did, taking the spot furthest from her, reclining back into the opposite corner of the couch. He rested one arm on the backrest, trying at leisure, but Izayoi seemed determined not to let him relax. As he settled, she moved, suddenly stretching out one leg in front of his face.</p><p>Toga stared at the polished heel hovering in front of his nose and flicked his gaze down her leg, over smooth skin and a dangerously draped blanket to pin her with a quizzical look.</p><p>“Massage,” she explained, playing coy. “These heels are torture.”</p><p>Toga swallowed his curse, flicking his eyes back to the appendage in front of him. The expensive, dramatic arch of the shoe had her leg extended in a theatrical way, more alluring than he’d ever thought an ankle and footwear could be. On top of that, she smelled like fresh lavender, no doubt evidence of being freshly washed and shaved— he couldn’t stop himself from imagining how she might feel beneath his hand, velvety soft and smooth.</p><p>“I’m allowed to touch you?”</p><p>“Below the knee,” she allowed.</p><p>It seemed he was at even more of a disadvantage than he’d anticipated. She could change the rules on him whenever he pleased. It was as if he'd gone into war against an army that could control the weather.</p><p>“...of course,” he grunted, managing to keep his voice steady. Conceding that momentary defeat, he reached up and took her ankle in hand, carefully lowering her leg and removing her shoe, setting it aside. While he began to press the pads of his thumbs into her sole, he felt her other foot settle on his thigh as she relaxed and reveled in her small victory.</p><p>After a moment, he decided to make a move.</p><p>“I must admit,” he drawled, pressing his thumb into the curve of her foot with clinical precision, “you’ve put me at a disadvantage.”</p><p>“Oh?” Izayoi murmured, a breath away from a satisfied moan. He tried to hide his smirk as he massaged that same place again, wanting to gain at least something of an upper hand.</p><p>“Indeed. You get to gaze on me as you please, but,” he pressed his finger in again, rewarded with a soft groan as he soothed away an ache, “here you are, covered up.”</p><p>She snorted softly, tilting her head as she looked at him. Gently, he slid her shoe back on her foot, resting it in his lap as he switched to the other.</p><p>“Trying to talk me out of my clothes?”</p><p>Not that she was wearing much. The argument could be made that he was wearing more than her, in fact, but he wasn’t about to advocate against his own defense.</p><p>“Is it working?”</p><p>She hummed in amusement, considering him as he kept at his work. When he was done, he slid this shoe back on the same as he had the other, letting his hands trace up her calf as he placed it back in his lap. Then, without saying anything to address him but clearly waiting for his gaze to fall on her, she reached up into the valley of her breasts and undid the plastic clasp that lay between them.</p><p>He kept his composure, if only because he had a thousand lifetimes of practice doing so. But that didn’t mean he’d avert his gaze. In fact, he made no secret of the fact he was admiring her, absently dragging his claws along the soft curves of her calves and the ridges of her shins.</p><p>At his silence, he thought she looked quite displeased.</p><p>“What?” he wondered.</p><p>“You,” she said the word like an accusation, reaching up with one heeled toe to gently prod his chin. He smirked. “Are being stubborn.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>“Don’t play coy with me.”</p><p>With a theatrical sigh, Izayoi took the blanket pooled at her hips and pulled it up over her chest, hiding herself from view. Toga couldn’t help the slight downturn of his expression, but it was made worse by what she said next.</p><p>“If you’re not interested, leave.”</p><p>He blinked in surprise as she turned her head away, leaning back leisurely into the couch as she feigned disinterest. Again, she was outmaneuvering him. Whether or not he called her bluff, he would lose.</p><p>Deciding he was bored with this particular aspect of the game, Toga conceded defeat.</p><p>“What makes you think I'm not?”</p><p>Izayoi’s laugh was music as he stood, lunging to sweep her off the couch, hauling her up against his chest and abandoning the rules she was clearly trying to trap him into breaking.</p><p>“Tell me the code to that open that damn door,” he growled in her ear, slipping his hands under her rear as she hooked her legs around his waist, making a show of proving his interest, “or I’ll knock it the fuck down.”</p><p>Izayoi’s laughter subsided to giggles as she nibbled on his earlobe, holding herself up with her arms twined around his neck. He did his very best to ignore the sensation, but it spread like fire down his veins as he strode down her hallway.</p><p>"Who said you could see that room?" she whispered in his ear, playful. "Do you <em>want</em> to be punished?"</p><p>"I know when I've lost."</p><p>She smiled, pressing her chest against his to further frustrate him.</p><p>“It's the day we met.”</p><p>He groaned and she laughed again, lacing her hand against the nape of his neck. Her fingernails dug in lightly against his skin, teasing as they arrived at the master bedroom. Toga glared down at the pinpad lock.</p><p>“Your door is doomed,” he warned, “We met too many times.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare,” she wiggled against him, forcing his thoughts towards the soft, supple parts of her and away from the door that was about to go flying off its hinges. “If you don’t remember, ask me.”</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>“Toga,” she sang in warning. He grumbled, swallowing the urge to squeeze her ass in play. It certainly wouldn’t earn him any favors.</p><p>“Please tell me,” at the way she pulled back to look down at him, he added the polite, “ma’am.”</p><p>After making him wait another moment, she did, and he shifted her weight into one arm so he could press the numbers on the pinpad. When the lock mercifully released, he pushed the door open with his foot, already anticipating what was to come— whatever it was. The details didn’t matter. She was the center of it and everything else was just fodder.</p><p>Still, the room behind the door wasn’t at all what he expected.</p><p>Perhaps the internet had led him astray about what to expect behind locked doors in this context, because where he’d thought he’d find some dark, fetishized dungeon-inspired scene, there was none. It was a normal bedroom. There was a large bed on an ornately carved frame against the wall to his left, matched with equally expensive furniture: a vanity, a single set of dresser drawers, a footlocker, and two nightstands, all made from the same dark wood. A painting in a particular art nouveau style graced the far wall that divided the rest of the room from the bathroom and closet, clearly reminiscent of Klimt, casting splashes of color against white paint and wooden floors. Gold leaf glinted softly against the dim lights when he flipped the switch on. Like in the room before this, the last wall was made entirely of glass, window panes stretching tall to look out over the city.</p><p>Izayoi shifted in his hold and he looped his free arm back around her, holding her up against his chest as he stole a few more glances at her hidden bedroom.</p><p>Upon further inspection, there were a few things that seemed out of place. The trunk at the foot of the bed had a functioning lock on it and there were some oddly shaped pieces of furniture between the bed and the dividing wall, standing in the space that was likely intended for a sitting area. It was impossible to tell what they were or their function; each was draped with a swath of heavy scarlet fabric, as if to protect from dust.</p><p>“Expecting a dungeon?” she teased, just as he spotted the cluster of cleverly painted hooks installed in the ceiling. Judging by their size, they were load-bearing.</p><p>“Hmm,” he hummed, noncommittal as he gently nipped her shoulder and peeled his eyes away from the ceiling. “I’m sure you’ve plenty of hidden torture devices in here.”</p><p>She shivered a little and then started to pull away from him, unhooking her legs so she could set her heels back down on the ground. Regrettably, he let her, easing her out of his arms despite the fact that there was a perfectly good bed right in front of them.</p><p>“The door lock is one-sided,” she said, unprompted, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that this was important to her. “Even if I lock it from out there, you can still open it from in here.”</p><p><em> I can’t lock you in, </em> she meant. <em> You’re not trapped. </em></p><p>Toga nodded in acknowledgement, curious. If he wanted to, he could push the door off its hinges with his little finger. But he supposed that wasn’t her point. Maybe she spoke from experience or maybe this was something normally discussed in relationships like theirs, but either way, he saw that she was trying to let him know he was safe.</p><p>“What if I want you to lock me in?” he teased, if only to lighten her tone. She rolled her eyes, smiling softly.</p><p>“Find me something that can hold a demon and I might,” she countered. “If you want me to.”</p><p>“One day, maybe.” Currently, that was off-limits. Not that the thought wasn’t intriguing. “On the subject of what I want, though…”</p><p>“You’ll have to earn it.”</p><p>“Will I?”</p><p>Izayoi gestured for him to stand in the center of the room between the bed and the windows, so he did, watching her until she told him to turn around and face away. There was a rustle behind him as he did, a drawer opening and closing. He gazed out over the daytime city as he waited, knowing that no one could see in despite the fact the glass seemed crystal clear.</p><p>Then she was behind him again, standing taller in her heels, draping a familiar blindfold over his head. He held in his sigh, but it was hardly only of disappointment. Only resigned. Anticipating.</p><p>“You,” she breathed, slipping the silk down over his eyes and knotting it snugly behind his head, careful not to tangle his hair, “need to get better at begging.”</p><p>If said in any other context, in any other light, he might’ve laughed. But now he only shivered as she ran her fingers over the stripes on his shoulders, hands falling away from his hair so she could touch him.</p><p>“Do I?”</p><p>After a month feeling alone with himself, her simple touch was enough to fan his embers into flames.</p><p>“You’re terrible at it,” she insisted, needling his pride in a strange way. It shouldn’t be an insult. It was something he made a point to never do. The Inu no Taisho did not<em> beg, </em>but if she wanted him to… if that would satisfy her…</p><p><em> Idiot, </em> he insulted himself, even as he tried to turn the conversation in his favor.</p><p>“You think I’ve ever asked a woman to fuck me like that?” he asked, voice low and alluring. He thought he felt her fingers twitch on his shoulders.</p><p>Then she grabbed a chunk of his hair and pulled his head back, arching his neck and stealing a breathy laugh from his throat.</p><p>“Knees,” she demanded in his ear, and down he went.</p><p>His neck straightened as he settled on the floor, her grip loosening slightly as she paced around him. His ears followed the click of her heels, his nose tracking every shift in her scent. Even behind the darkness of his blindfold, he knew she was in front of him before she spoke, her fingers massaging gently against his scalp.</p><p>“How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell me?” she propositioned, voice soft while he focused on the feeling of her hand in his hair. “I <em> could </em> guess, I suppose. Drag this out even longer. Do you want that?”</p><p>“No, ma’am.”</p><p>What he wanted was to be inside her, but what fun was the hunt without the chase?</p><p>“Then let’s practice, hm?” She was closer, now. Her scent spilled over him and he imagined she must’ve crouched down, her hand sliding down to the nape of his neck and grabbing his hair again. He hated how much he was growing to appreciate that sharp sensation. “What do you want?”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>“Come on, now. You can do better than that.”</p><p>At his reluctance to speak, she continued.</p><p>“It’s just you and me, Toga,” she reminded him, reassuring in her confidence. “All you should be focusing on is me. Nothing else. No one else. It’s just us.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>She was controlling him. Seeing his discomfort, recognizing his hesitancy, and gently working him towards the goals they’d agreed to reach together. Nudging him closer and closer to letting go, he imagined.</p><p>“Do you trust me?”</p><p>“I do,” he said, and a small, prideful part of him was surprised to hear how genuine he sounded.</p><p>“Then do that. Trust me,” she soothed. “What should you be focusing on, Toga?”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>“And what do I want?”</p><p>He swallowed hard. On his knees, his fingers flexed. Vulnerability seemed daunting, as he’d never lived in a world where it wouldn’t be dangerous to express. His place was not below others. It was above them. To rule them, to control them, to guide them, to conquer them, and yet…</p><p>Here he was.</p><p>“To hear me beg.”</p><p>It did not sound like his voice. It was a few shades lighter, a few steps to the side, but whatever it was, he knew it was hers.</p><p>“Good,” she encouraged, leaning forward and brushing her lips against his jaw, peppering a few soft kisses against the corner until he tipped his head back. At his response, she immediately pulled away. “Let’s try again, shall we?”</p><p>He nodded against her hold of his hair and imagined she was smiling.</p><p>“What do you want, Toga?”</p><p>If his self control could be cut out and pieced apart in offerings, given like communion at the altar, he had just carved himself open and given her another fragment of his heart. Bleeding again under the gentle curve of her smile, Toga let go of one tiny shard of himself.</p><p>“I want you to touch me. Kiss me.” he murmured, finding it too easy to keep talking, “I want to end this distance between us.”</p><p>“Better,” she whispered, and she gave him that kiss he wanted, that reward, nibbling gently on his bottom lip before pulling away. “But there’s room for improvement.”</p><p>He groaned, but it wasn’t without the smallest smirk.</p><p>“I’m not convinced,” she teased, letting her hand slide out of his hair. He was alone in the dark for the moment, but her scent was still close, her presence unmoving. “If you want me, come find me.”</p><p>Something primal rose in his chest at her taunt, the predator that lay dormant beneath his skin beginning to stir. He doubted she was aware of it, or even marginally cognizant of how that could be dangerous, but he didn’t care. If she wanted him to find her - to chase her - he would. Happily.</p><p>Then she was moving away from him, taking her wonderful scent with her, breezing away to the edges of the room. If he remembered right, there was a chair there, cornered against a short wall and the windows. He imagined she’d taken a seat, tantalizingly shirtless with those damn heels on her feet, waiting for him, confident and comfortable.</p><p>This was too easy. But he played along, waited until the moment her footsteps stopped, and then rose from his knees, blindly and confidently striding across the room to her. Not wanting to do her a disservice by lying, he didn’t hide the ease of the chase, pausing when he felt he was near enough.</p><p>He was, of course. Her hand reached out to his and drew him closer, guiding him to stand between her legs, her hands floating to rest on his hips.</p><p>“Too easy,” she murmured, but she didn’t sound disappointed. “But that’s my fault, isn’t it?”</p><p>She stood, brushing her body up against his as she drew herself up, lifting her hands to lace her fingers with both of his. He reveled in the feeling of her softness, the way her breasts dragged against his chest and then pillowed into him when she leaned forward, guiding his hands up.</p><p>“Tell me what you want,” she murmured, ghosting her lips over his pulse, “Show me.”</p><p>There was an obvious move to make here. A few obvious moves, in fact. He knew it. She knew it.</p><p>“Touch me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand gently and guiding it up, subverting her expectations when he pressed her hand flat to his chest, her fingertips over the ridge of his collarbone where his markings pointed. “Here.”</p><p>“Here?”</p><p>The soft surprise in her voice was enough to satisfy his pride. Just because he was submitting to her didn’t mean he couldn’t take her off guard or enact his own revenge. If she’d robbed him of being touched for weeks, he’d do what he could to return the favor. Denying himself was an acceptable price if she got a taste of his frustration.</p><p>“All right.”</p><p>She ran her fingers over the ridge of his collarbone, skating her nails against the skin, pressing her lips there and leaving soft marks behind. He didn’t shiver or tremble, but he did place his hands on her hips, holding there as if to ensure she wouldn’t part from him.</p><p>Then he felt one of her hands dip low, sliding down his ribs and over his hips before she slipped her fingers inside his pocket. He knew immediately what she was fishing for and held back his groan as she withdrew his concealment charm, twisting the omamori around her fingers and dragging her hand back up the same path, letting the cloth pendant dance over his skin. Its inherent spiritual energy bit against his yoki, trying to ward it away.</p><p>“What?” she giggled, like she didn’t know what she was doing. His claws flexed against her hips. “Where’s the fun if we’re not on equal footing?”</p><p>But she went slowly anyway, taking her time to pull the necklace over his head and settle it on his chest. Giving him time to tell her to stop, he supposed, but he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t a coward. His hair bled to black and his eyes filled with grey behind his blindfold, every demonic marking on his skin fading away beneath her hands. The world went quiet.</p><p>“All right,” she whispered, kissing his collarbone one last time before she drifted out of his hold. He was left alone in the dark, frustratingly numb to the world. “Come find me.”</p>
<hr/><p>He did. Many times. But it took <em>forever. </em></p><p>She hid inside this bedroom. She hid in the other. He hunted her through the apartment, barely able to track her scent, hardly able to hear her, but finding her all the same.</p><p>Every time he did, she asked him what he wanted, and made him speak clearly. Made him request, made him beg, and then rewarded his every word. She kissed his neck, touched his back, traced his hips, bit his lips — any small thing he requested, leaving red marks wherever she went. If she was frustrated that he didn’t touch her in return, it showed only in small ways, compounding her frustrations on top of his. Her fingers eventually began to tremble, the hot presses of her mouth growing more desperate. The feeling was more than worth prolonging his own suffering. How she wanted without speaking was intoxicating, his amusement growing as she became more annoyed with him, her voice sharpening with every passing hunt.</p><p>When he found her in the kitchen, she grabbed him by his charm and yanked him down to her, dragging him on a leash to press a kiss to the high planes of his cheekbone. He laughed gently, caging her between his arms when his hands found the kitchen counter behind her. When his head dipped into the curve between her shoulder and her neck, however, that laugh died quickly, chased away by the urge to press his mouth to her fluttering pulse.</p><p>“I want,” he began, but she cut him off.</p><p>“I don’t care,” she breathed into his ear, hot air curling around the shell and chasing down into the pit of his belly. “I know what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Do you?” he growled, but there was no heart in it. He dug his blunt nails against the countertop, holding himself back from hauling her up and having his way.</p><p>He was covered in her marks, his whole body vibrating from the sensation of her touch. He wasn’t exactly straining against anything yet, mostly because senses were terribly deprived at the moment, but that didn’t lessen the <em>want</em>.</p><p>“Listen to me,” she demanded, and he leaned farther down when she yanked his necklace, putting his cheek against hers. “I’m going to go back to my room. You’re going to wait here. And when I call you…” she paused, making him wait, making him wonder, “...you’re going to fuck me with your mouth.”</p><p>Her other hand pressed against the front of his pants, against <em>him</em>, and she leaned back against the counter, dragging him with her as she hooked one of her legs around his. He groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing against her touch through the stiff fabric.</p><p>“And when you’re done, you’re going to beg me for the privilege of getting to do anything else. Do you understand? You’re going to have to convince me you deserve it.” She kissed his ear, trailing her lips to the spot where his markings should be, tracing along the hem of his blindfold. “And if you don’t, you can try again next month.”</p><p>He nodded and she pressed against him again, a little bit harder, the point of her heel digging into his leg.</p><p>“Do - you - understand?” she ground out, warning him.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Good.” Then she pulled his blindfold off and shoved him away, sending him stumbling back a step. Blinking against the light, he caught sight of her just as she began to leave, that strip of silk hanging loosely from her fingers. “Stay out here until I call you.”</p><p>He hinged his palm on the counter behind him, taking a deep breath.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>Izayoi disappeared down the hall and when she called him, he didn’t hesitate a second.</p>
<hr/><p>She wanted him to fuck her with his mouth, so he did exactly that.</p><p>When he re-entered her room, she was laying out on the bed that they had yet to consecrate, still wearing her heels and her lace. For the first time since before the non-disclosure agreements, he wasn’t refused the privilege of touching her. His arms were unbound, his hands were free, and she didn’t stop him from taking her in his hold when he joined her in bed, kissing her with a great fervor.</p><p>If she wanted his mouth, she could have it. He gave it to her on every stretch of bare skin he could find, leaving trails of gentle red marks across her chest, making sure not to leave any lasting bruises. His lips found every pulse point, sucked every gentle, sensitive spot that made her shiver. He paid his tithing at her breasts, nipping and teasing until she was cursing him, lacing her fingers in his hair again and demanding he go lower, sharply commanding his movements.</p><p>In an enthusiastic encore to the last time she had invited him to feast, he did as he was told, holding her hips and doing his very best to spite the concealment charm that was holding back half the sensations that made him crave her so badly.</p><p>Somehow, he ended up on his back and she was on top, his head trapped between her bent knees as she held herself over him, leaning back with one hand splayed flat across his chest in support. He didn’t mind it in the slightest, more than happy to lay out beneath her as she canted against his mouth, dripping against his tongue. The fingers of one hand were laced with hers, held against her breast, and the others were digging harmlessly into her thigh as she arched into the feeling of his hot mouth.</p><p>Every time she moaned, he throbbed. Every time she squeezed his hand or pressed down against his face, he ached. Every muted sensation had his fires growing, a fever beginning to climb in his veins as he yearned to flip her over and find his own pleasure, but he couldn’t— not without permission. And certainly not with his yoki restrained as it was, dampening every kiss and touch. Even the taste of her was different. He wanted to return to who he was and give that over to her; not this parody of himself. When she pulled away from him, he was ready, and it felt as if he had shed his skin and stepped into another body. It wasn’t that he was ready to fuck her properly - he was, no doubt - but that he was ready to <em>beg</em>.</p><p>What was worse, though, was that she didn’t let him.</p><p>There was a gag in his mouth before he could even think of pleading, and then she was using her mouth, her hands, her everything, and—</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>It was the first night again, but backwards and worse, because everything felt so feather light, so distant and <em>wrong</em>, muffled by the charm. She was edging him, teasing him, saying awful and tempting things against his skin where she left kisses, dragging her nails across his abs and down lower where she could get him trembling. After a night of being forced to tell her everything he wanted, he was forced into silence at her whim, toyed with and used at her amusement.</p><p>She took him in her hands. Between her breasts. In her mouth. In all three at once. But she never let him finish, always pressing him to the edge and then forcing him away, pulling him back and steadying his body before she forced it into a riot again.</p><p>Then, suddenly, she forced him up on his knees and pried the fabric from between his lips, twining her fingers around the necklace hanging heavy on his chest. He gasped gently at being freed and she took advantage of it, pulling him down for a kiss that had his fingers trembling on her hips.</p><p>“Beg,” she commanded, fingers digging into his jaw as she stared into his grey eyes.</p><p>He fell apart.</p><p>“Take this fucking thing off me,” he begged. There wasn’t any strength behind his curses, only desperation. “Let me fuck you. Fuck me. I don’t fucking care, just take this damn thing off and I’ll do whatever you say. Please. Whatever you want. Anything. Please, ma’am. I need you. I want to come, I want to fuck you, I want—”</p><p>“Good,” she praised, and the way he twitched to hear that made him ashamed and proud all at once. “Good, dearest.”</p><p>There was a snap against the back of his neck and the veil lifted off his world, his eyes bled back to gold, and lightning strikes of blue cracked across his body. He grabbed her tighter underneath his claws and waited, trembling on a needle’s point of anticipation until she finally spoke again.</p><p>“You can fuck me,” she allowed, releasing his jaw, and something inside of him shattered in relief. “But don’t you dare come without asking.”</p><p>“Yes. Thank you, ma’am.”</p><p>Then she laughed, kissing him, hooking her arms around his neck and tasting like magic as she fell back on the bed, tipping him down with her.</p><p>He fucked her because she let him, she let him because she trusted him, and she trusted him because he let her. They went down in a rough tangle of hungry lips and demanding hands, fighting each other in play, twisting and thrusting and loving until they couldn’t stand their game any longer.</p><p>Toga begged, Izayoi allowed, and they were spent within the safe confines of trust.</p>
<hr/><p>“Come on.”</p><p>She was gathering him up from the sheets, gently tugging on his wrists until he followed her out of bed. At his soft groan of protest, she gently shushed him, kissing his cheek as he got to his feet.</p><p>“You need cleaned up.”</p><p>“Later,” he grumbled, but she shook her head. He knew he was a mess, but he didn’t have the energy to care.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” she encouraged. “You don’t have to do anything. I promise.”</p><p>His body disobeyed his mind and moved of its own accord, following her when she coaxed him forward to the bathroom, her hands never leaving him for a second. He didn’t know why he felt so tired. Even as his feet hit the cold floor of the bathroom’s tile, he found it hard to open his eyes all the way, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her chest and take a nap.</p><p>There was something heavy hanging on his ribs, tangled up in that cage. He couldn’t name it, but he felt that it would go away if he slept, if he melted into her embrace, and then everything would be fine afterwards.</p><p>Izayoi sat him down on a shower stool and kissed his forehead, pushing her fingers through his hair and kissing his temple next, his cheek, then the point of the stripe beneath his right eye. The water turned on and stayed off him while it warmed, this bathroom designed more traditionally than the last. He knew there was a large tub beside him, and distantly he recognized it was full, purple flower petals drifting on the surface. Izayoi hadn’t even turned on the lights.</p><p>There was a flick of a lighter as she began to light candles — a fact he knew by scent alone. But when had she moved away from him?</p><p>“Toga.”</p><p>She was back. Absently, he held his hand up to ask for soap, but she pressed it down and away.</p><p>“Just relax,” she said softly. “It’s ok to drift.”</p><p>To drift? He didn’t quite know what she meant, but he didn’t have time to consider it before warm water began to run down his back. It took him a few moments to realize what was happening, and then a few more to feel grateful for it.</p><p>Izayoi lathered soap over his body and began to wash him, silent and sure as her fingers worked over his shoulders, his back, his arms, and his front, pressing gently into the ridges of his muscles. He decided to focus on that sensation, not thinking too much about it, anchoring himself in the moment with the feeling of her comforting touch. He closed his eyes and drifted, just as she said he could, comfortable in her care and pliable to her touch.</p><p>When was the last time someone had bathed him?</p><p>He didn’t know. Didn’t care. Again, he focused back on Izayoi; on her hands, her scent, her presence. The way her delicate fingers moved through his hair, massaging his scalp as she worked shampoo through sweat-damp locks. Leaning back into the sensation without realizing it, he took a deep breath, feeling unsteady and grounded at the same time, warm from the tips of his ears down to his toes.</p><p>Had anyone <em> ever </em> washed his hair for him?</p><p>“Are you still with me?” she whispered, barely breaking the quiet ambience. The thrumming sound of the shower and the crackle of candle wicks still reigned through the dark.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” he replied numbly.</p><p>“We’re done, dearest,” she said gently, rinsing him off, squeezing his shoulders. “It’s over.”</p><p>“Mm-hm.”</p><p>Then she was guiding him up to his feet and into the bath, beneath the steaming water that felt like a warm embrace. She didn’t join him immediately, though; he heard the shower continue as she cleaned herself, his eyes still closed to the world. The bathwater smelled like roses and lavender, soothing in a distant way, and he slipped down until he was submerged to the mouth, the surface hovering just below his nose.</p><p>Mercifully, her tub was deep enough that he could sink in completely, and he was fairly certain he would’ve fallen asleep there if she hadn’t disturbed the waters.</p><p>“Toga?”</p><p>He cracked open his eyes as she stepped in the tub and lay down with him, curving her body around his. Her hair was bundled on top of her head, notably dry.</p><p>“Hm?” It was barely a sound beneath the surface tension of the water, but the quirk of his eyebrow was acknowledgement enough.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>Looping his arm around her waist, he pulled her in close and shifted up, pressing a kiss to her lips. He could feel her smile against him, however slightly.</p><p>“Yes,” he rumbled. She pressed his bangs out of his eyes again. He’d never noticed how often they fell into his face.</p><p>“Are you sure?” she wondered, hooking one of her legs around his.</p><p>“Why would I lie?”</p><p>She smiled and he felt something shift inside his chest, the beginnings of a more dangerous sort of loyalty beginning to creep through his veins. If he held more presence of mind, he might’ve recognized it. Might’ve caught the passing thought about how well and truly fucked he was about to be.</p><p>“You wouldn’t.”</p><p>Izayoi kissed his temple, stretching her arm long against the edge of the tub so she could rest her cheek in the palm of her hand. Positioned slightly above him, the look she cast down on him was full of care, tinted with a strange, comforting possessiveness.</p><p>“Drift,” she told him, tracing a lazy circle over his chest. “I’m here.”</p><p>So he did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Scarlet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains brief references to past sexual abuse and non-consensual sex/rape.</strong>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">But please don't worry, this isn't some cause-and-effect for anyone's sexual preferences. I can't stand that trope. I tried to do my best to make it clear that none of the characters sexualities/preferences/kinks have any roots in abuse. It's simply the way they are. Anything that happened to them is irrelevant in that regard.</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  The water never grew cold, but soon Izayoi was gently nudging him out of the tub, guiding him from one warmth to the next as she dried him and dragged him back into the bedroom with her. 
</p><p>
  When they fell back into bed, he found himself resting with his head on her stomach, curved around her body as she rested up against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed frame. The fatigue that had plagued him earlier seemed to have washed away, leaving him more aware than he’d been before. Izayoi was settling into place, getting comfortable as she began to drag her fingers through Toga’s hair again, but he couldn’t ignore the frustration beginning to bud in his chest. She was soft and nice and wonderful, of course, and he couldn’t complain about being twisted up with a beautiful woman in bed, but… 
</p><p>
  But he wanted to be holding her, for once. 
</p><p>
  He lay there for a few moments before he moved, crawling up to put his head and shoulders on the pillows before he wrapped his arm around Izayoi and hooked her into his chest, smiling a little when she gasped.  
</p><p>
  “Toga?” 
</p><p>
  “Hush,” he shushed. “Relax.” 
</p><p>
  She hadn’t let her hair down from the bath, so he couldn’t drag his fingers through it like she often did to him, but he could ghost his touch against her shoulders, dragging delicate claws across soft skin. The way she shivered made him hum in contentment, leaning down to kiss her temple as she carefully, almost cautiously, settled in against him. He thought he saw her blush. 
</p><p>
  “What?” he wondered. She said nothing, shaking her head as she stretched an arm across his chest, resting her cheek in the crux of his shoulder.  
</p><p>
  There was something there, held just beneath the surface, but he was unsure if he should pry. It wasn’t the first time he’d held her, but it was the first time he was doing so without the aftershocks of orgasm to distract them. This was purely domestic, almost sexless. They’d had platonic moments before but, overall, there weren’t many. 
</p><p>
  Maybe she was being shy. It seemed ridiculous, considering all her orchestrations, but it wasn’t impossible. 
</p><p>
  So Toga decided to ignore her sweet embarrassment, absently drifting his hand over her shoulders as he let his mind wander. His gaze did as well, traveling over the room and taking in the details for a second time that night. He settled for a time on staring at the strange pieces of covered furniture, but as he was unable to decide exactly what they were, they didn’t hold his attention for long. Soon he was staring at the painting on the wall beyond them, hanging innocuously on the dividing wall.  
</p><p>
  “Do you like it?” Izayoi asked gently. 
</p><p>
  “Hm?” Toga blinked, startled out of his thoughts, realizing too slowly that she’d caught him staring. His gaze transferred to her, relaxed as he reversed the pattern his fingers had been tracing on her back. She shivered again. “Oh. Yes. I think.” 
</p><p>
  Izayoi laughed a little at that, tilting her head to look at the painting as he gazed on it.  
</p><p>
  “Is the decapitated head throwing you off?” 
</p><p>
  “Not the first decapitated head I’ve seen,” Toga chuckled, but, for obvious reasons, he didn’t elaborate further. “There’s no way that’s the original.” 
</p><p>
  “You’re familiar with Klimt?”  
</p><p>
  He shrugged, not missing Izayoi’s clear interest.  
</p><p>
  “I’m familiar with a lot of things. Been around a while.” 
</p><p>
  She smiled, though there was a little bit of a sigh tacked onto the end of it.  
</p><p>
  “It was my final project in university,” she explained, voice gentle. “A recreation of 
  <em>
    Judith.
  </em>
  ” 
</p><p>
  Toga was only somewhat familiar with the piece: 
  <em>
    Judith and the Head of Holofernes,
  </em>
   a portrait of a biblical widow that had done what no man could, seducing and slaying an invader for the sake of her lands. It was perhaps a disservice to describe her so plainly, but he knew little else; the religions of foreign lands were mysteries to him, unless some supernatural being had crawled back into this world through the pages of their texts and tomes. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi’s 
  <em>
    Judith 
  </em>
  stared down at them with a gaze that was less seducing than it was confident, as though she understood her own atrocities and found pride in them. Framed in gilded gold, supported by a backdrop of a twisting forest, she stood confident, half-bare to the world and holding the obscured head of a dead man. Her sexuality was what it was, as were her actions
  —
   that she could weaponize her sex was no different than using a pen to write, or a brush to paint. Her confidence outshined the atrocities of her life, dimmed the blood and ignored the knife.
</p><p>
  “You painted that?” 
</p><p>
  It was a lame question, meant only to spur conversation. Izayoi nodded against his chest, stretching again, looking away and folding her arm under her cheek. He could feel her eyes on him, gently probing, staring in the same way Judith did.
</p><p>
  “I did. I’ve painted a lot of things,” she said softly. “All the paintings in the house are mine.” 
</p><p>
  <em>
    All of them?  
  </em>
</p><p>
  Toga blinked, finally breaking free from the gaze of the painting. At the moment, he couldn’t recall there being 
  <em>
    any 
  </em>
  other paintings in her home, but he was sure that was because he’d been busy looking at other things. 
</p><p>
  When he wasn’t blindfolded, that was. 
</p><p>
  “An artist and a politician,” he mused, deftly avoiding comment. “A rare combination.”
</p><p>
  “Humanitarian,” she corrected, gently prodding his ribcage with her finger. He chuckled.
</p><p>
  “What’s the difference?”
</p><p>
  “No one bribes me.”
</p><p>
  Toga snorted, tracing his hand up her spine again. They spoke a little while longer, discussing her schooling and her art, and her disappointment at having put down her paintbrush so many years ago. Judith watched them all the while.
</p><p>
  When Izayoi finally slipped into sleep, Toga saw her with new eyes. He saw the slayer of generals that lay dormant underneath her skin—
   the brilliant, golden woman she knew herself to be, and the naked confidence of her soul. Her body was both a weapon and an olive branch; her mind was as sharp as it was bold. In her, he saw tomorrow. For herself. For her people. For him.
</p><p>
  But he wondered if he saw his death as well. 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  “What are those, exactly?”
</p><p>
  Izayoi looked up from his chest towards where Toga was looking, still a little tired, just now coming back to the world of the living. The sun had just set outside the windows and both of them were content to watch the colors of the sky change to black, comfortable in bed and wanting to stay close after a month of being apart. 
</p><p>
  “Oh.” Izayoi sighed, shaking her head dismissively and putting her cheek back on his chest, closing her eyes as she nuzzled back down. “Stocks and crosses.”
</p><p>
  Toga blinked. For the past two hours that she’d been sleeping, he’d been puzzling over the covered furniture in the center of the room, wondering what they were. That was not the answer he’d been expecting.
</p><p>
  At his silence, she laughed gently against his chest.
</p><p>
  “Don’t worry. You’d probably break them if I put you in one, and I’m not fond of splinters.”
</p><p>
  He snorted suddenly, caught off guard by the joke. Still, the thought was intriguing.
</p><p>
  “But you 
  <em>
    have 
  </em>
  used them?” he pried gently, curious.
</p><p>
  “Mm-hm.” Glancing up at him, her expression was veiled, nearly distant. Coming to some conclusion with herself, she eventually peeled away from him and rolled aside, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Go on. You can look.”
</p><p>
  Toga took the invitation, not bothered that he’d been so easily read. Crawling over her and out of bed, he approached the center of the room where the furniture stood and began pulling off the scarlet sheets.
</p><p>
  Beneath one was a large hourglass cross, standing at least seven feet tall and made of dark, lacquered wood, upholstered with stretches of padded leather at each corner and in its centerpoint. It had been outfitted with hoops and hooks along its edges, meant for rigging various accessories, and looked altogether unmovable. It was sturdy in its make, giving no room for sway or tipping.
</p><p>
  “A St. Andrew’s Cross,” Izayoi explained, but offered nothing else. Toga nodded.
</p><p>
  He pulled down another sweep of fabric over a shorter structure, exposing what was, for all intents and purpose, a standard pillory. Except he was pretty sure the stock was removable from the structure, and there were a pair of curious, heavy eye screws attached to the face of it. The holes for the wrists and neck had been padded with the same leather from the cross. The wood was matching.
</p><p>
  Izayoi said nothing, so he moved onto the last.
</p><p>
  This one stood at hip height, and was quite plain when he pulled its covering away, letting it flutter to the ground in a red pool with the rest. Toga stared, considered the item, and then looked back to Izayoi.
</p><p>
  “These are meant for women.”
</p><p>
  A wooden horse, as it was called, stood silently next to him. It was at its tallest around his hip, the edge of a large triangle aimed towards the ceiling. It had been somewhat tapered and sanded down, but it was still a dramatic point, and he imagined its smoothness made the experience no less comfortable after a considerable amount of time riding it. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi nodded, sighing as she sat up and wrapped herself in her sheet.
</p><p>
  “Mostly,” she agreed. Toga hesitated to say anything more because it seemed a sudden melancholy had taken her, almost haunting in its presence. “They were used in another relationship. I used to switch,” at the tilt of his head, she clarified, “I used to change roles with him, from time to time. He liked using those.”
</p><p>
  Slowly realizing that she was opening up to him, he abandoned his curiosity and joined her back in bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress in front of her.
</p><p>
  “And you did not?” he presumed.
</p><p>
  “Oh,” she laughed a little, shaking her head, “No, I did. A lot. They’re quite fun, actually, but,” with a shrug, she pulled the sheets tighter around herself, thoughtful, “he wasn’t the right person. He could be very… 
  <em>
    inattentive.
  </em>
   Liked to push boundaries a lot.” 
</p><p>
  “Too much?”
</p><p>
  She nodded. He watched as her bottom lip slipped up between her teeth, bit softly as she reeled backwards through her own memory. Considering something.
</p><p>
  “He left me in that pillory, once. I don’t remember how long, but it must've been hours. He’d left the room and pretended he couldn’t hear me calling for him. I started panicking after a while. Thought he'd left or something had happened to him— all sorts of things. When I finally broke down, he came in and comforted me, but he didn’t let me out. Didn't matter what I said. He convinced me to stay until he was done with his scene.” 
</p><p>
  Toga’s blood turned to granite under his skin. Izayoi continued on, not noticing, now seeming very far out of reach even as he put his hand on her knee over the sheets.
</p><p>
  “There was a lot of that. A lot of pushing. A lot of stopping when I used the safe word, but… It was like pausing? Nothing ever actually ended.” She shrugged, as though that was enough explanation. “Love makes you dumb, I guess.”
</p><p>
  “You loved him, and he did that to you?” His voice was startlingly protective, a little rough in its undertone. Izayoi’s eyes flashed to him, reeled back into the present by the sound. A short wave of embarrassment flooded her expression.
</p><p>
  “I mean, I snapped out of it. Eventually. Kicked him out and ended things.” Letting go of the edge of the sheet she’d covered herself in, she slid forward, climbing over him to straddle his lap. Nude as they both were, it was strange how innocent it felt, sexless and soft. His claws floated up to her hips and held there firmly, as if she might fly away if he didn’t. 
</p><p>
  “Still,” he murmured, terse. Izayoi smiled softly and slipped her fingers through his hair, the other arm draped over his shoulder.
</p><p>
  “Listen. It’s not about the hardware. If I didn’t think you’d shatter that cross to bits, I’d put you in it in a heartbeat,” she teased, twirling one of the longer strands of his hair around her finger. “None of that did anything to me. Ever. 
  <em>
    He
  </em>
   did. He didn’t respect me or our games, and the last thing he ever did was ignore our safe word. I broke it off the moment it was over.” 
</p><p>
  <em>
    Rape, 
  </em>
  his mind offered cruelly, but he didn’t voice it. He couldn’t.
</p><p>
  Gently, Izayoi kissed his forehead.
</p><p>
  “I know what it was. But it’s better now,” she breathed. His hands slipped up higher and then forward and beyond, arms twining around her waist to hold her more securely. “I made changes. I don’t switch anymore. I moved to the other bedroom for a while.” There was a pause, a breath, and then a soft admission. “And now I have you.” 
</p><p>
  An affectionate rumble escaped him, but it didn’t smother his anger. Leaning his head into the hollow of her shoulder and neck, he pulled her in flush against his body, her breasts plush against his upper chest. 
</p><p>
  “What’s his name?”
</p><p>
  “What?” Her hands stilled in his hair, frozen. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
</p><p>
  “Why not?” he murmured, hugging her more possessively. “I can make him disappear, you know.”
</p><p>
  Izayoi sputtered on a laugh, startled out of her shock. Her arms wound around him, fingers sliding out of his hair as she did so.
</p><p>
  “Oh, Toga…”
</p><p>
  “Really, just say the word,” he said, though the threat was half-hearted. “I’ll take care of him.”
</p><p>
  She laughed despite the morbidity, kissing his temple. 
</p><p>
  “I appreciate the offer, but no murder. I don’t want to have to speak out against you in public.”
</p><p>
  “It doesn’t have to be 
  <em>
    murder, 
  </em>
  exactly,” he tried to reason. She shushed him. 
</p><p>
  “Any more talk like that and I 
  <em>
    will 
  </em>
  try putting you in the stocks.”
</p><p>
  He chuckled, closing his eyes as he leaned into her.
</p><p>
  “Is that a threat?”
</p><p>
  “Only if you make it one.”
</p>
<hr/><p>
  After all their talk of hardware, and after a few more snide remarks about wanting to off her former boyfriend over dinner, Toga found himself kneeling at the foot of the bed, staring at the locked chest in front of him. He needed to be taught a lesson, apparently.
</p><p>
  Izayoi told him the combination very plainly, and he acted in turn to press the numbers in order. She waited as he slid the open lock free of the clasp, setting it down beside him on the floor, and then waited again as he pressed open the lid.
</p><p>
  It was Pandora’s Box, to say the very least. 
</p><p>
  There were ropes in twenty different widths, makes, and colors all stacked neatly to one side. There were metal accessories - clips and clamps and weights, rings and chains, strung beads and large hooks, and even a long bar with manacles attached - organized throughout the middle, laying innocently next to a handful of different cuffs and gags. There were whips of short length laying soft next to a riding crop and lastly, to the right of it all, was a sea of silicone. Various phalluses stood on end and indistinct orbs and ovals rest innocuously beside them, displayed in a color palette of blacks, reds, and purples. There were many that were currently plugged in or stood on chargers, and a few had cords and plugs for constant, hard-line power.
</p><p>
  Izayoi removed the spreader bar, calling it another remnant of that past relationship, and then gestured innocently to the box.
</p><p>
  “Choose three, dearest.”
</p><p>
  So he did.
</p><p>
  He chose a bundle of blue rope, one of the odd silicone ovals that vibrated, and a pair of clips with padded sleeves that were attached by a thin chain between them. The silicone toy was as wide as it was long, flat in shape, perhaps as large as his palm and as thick as a finger. It didn’t appear to be designed for insertion and was clearly meant for a woman’s pleasure, curved slightly for ease of use, but he didn’t doubt her creativity.
</p><p>
  But then she chose three herself, as well.
</p><p>
  First was a short whip with many rectangular leather tails, attached to a braided base that was half the width of his wrist, strikingly suggestive in its design. Second was a belted gag with a bit for the mouthpiece, and lastly, she withdrew a metal device from the center that was teardrop shaped, polished to an impressive shine.
</p><p>
  He swallowed hard and she did, indeed, teach him a lesson.
</p>
<hr/><p>
  He would have been happy to spend his morning in peace with her. They woke late, as they usually did, and lounged out in the living room in various states of undress, waking themselves with cups of coffee. He was shirtless on one end of the couch, Izayoi’s feet in his lap as she stretched out long, watching the calm reports on the news. 
</p><p>
  Then, as if on repeat, the universe decided to be cruel to them.
</p><p>
  Just as it had when the Higurashi Shrine had been attacked, the world descended upon him and flooded into his phone, but this time he was not alone in the occurrence. Izayoi’s cell started vibrating on the table so insistently it nearly shook itself onto the floor, skittering over glass before she grabbed it.
</p><p>
  “What the hell?”
</p><p>
  Toga’s phone was an endless alarm, as close to a bomb as it would ever get, but he didn’t bother sifting through the layers of notifications. The news was already flashing, telling him what he needed to know.
</p><p>
  His stomach bottomed out at the sight of a yokai’s body crashing through the rooftop of a school, screaming and coiling in the sky above a very frightened cameraman, the intensity of the zoom causing the image to shake. He recognized it as a demon of the forest; Mistress Centipede, a curious creature that had always been able to revive itself no matter how many times it was purified to dust. She’d been living in demon lands for centuries— why would she come out to the city now?
</p><p>
  A silver streak flashed along the edge of the screen that looked very much like his son’s hair, but it was gone in an instant, barely a blur as a school window shattered in. The answer to his question hit him like a sack of bricks.
</p><p>
  It was Higurashi’s school. 
</p><p>
  <em>
    Shit. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  Moving to his feet, he knew he had enough time to make one choice: gather his clothes or say goodbye to Izayoi.
</p><p>
  It wasn’t a hard decision to make.
</p><p>
  “Toga?”
</p><p>
  “I’ll see you when I can,” he said quickly, taking a single stride to her side and leaning down to steal a quick, deep kiss, not caring that she was still struggling with the shock. “Stay inside until this is dealt with.”
</p><p>
  “Wait, Toga- you’re—”
</p><p>
  He stepped away from her, still wearing only his sweatpants as he headed towards the balcony. The eyes of the city were turned elsewhere; this one time, he could risk leaving plainly from her home, simply because he had no other choice. There was no time to spare.
</p><p>
  Izayoi was saying his name again, but he ignored it. With a purposeful tug at a certain thread in his mind, he unraveled a piece of himself, allowing his yoki to burst out of the body it was currently confined in. Usually this was a start of a transformation into his true form, and his yoki spun up in a loose imitation of the tornado that should follow. Items shook throughout the apartment, but none of them fell or tumbled at the force— the process was over in seconds as Toga renewed this form, unleashing parts of himself that he often kept hidden away.
</p><p>
  His hair, now long, draped down his shoulder in a silver waterfall, tied back into a high ponytail on his head. The sweatpants, disintegrated by the force of his yoki, were replaced with the comfortable starched fabric of his hakama, reborn from another age. With it were his kimono in two layers, maroon under white, struck through with blue across one shoulder. A heavy pelt of his cream-colored fur spilled over his shoulders, summoned from nowhere and flaring in two parts at his booted feet. 
</p><p>
  But most importantly, the sword So’unga glimmered between his shoulders, a relic of times past. 
</p><p>
  <em>
    Hello, 
  </em>
  it crooned darkly, resting heavy in the hollow space that it had carved out in its master’s skull. 
  <em>
    What are we killing today?
  </em>
</p><p>
  Toga cast a look over his shoulder to Izayoi as he opened the balcony door, unable to stop his smirk at the abject shock on her face. He must be quite the sight.
</p><p>
  “Stay safe.”
</p><p>
  And then he was gone, running off the ledge of the balcony and flying off into the cerulean sky. 
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Break: Sesshomaru</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the day. It was just the same as all the others, and it began with all the same annoyances, including the one that provoked his ire the most:</p><p>Babysitting.</p><p>It was ridiculous, Sesshomaru thought, that he had been relegated to such a menial task. Every weekday he was forced to abandon his affairs from approximately eight in the morning to three in the afternoon, as his father had delegated the responsibility of watching over the Higurashi child to him. So long as the rumors of the Shikon no Tama still reigned, she would need supervision. Protection.</p><p>Usually he would’ve delegated a task like this further down the line, but there was none to give it to. There were very few who knew of the existence of the Shikon no Tama and disclosing that information to anyone, no matter how trusted, would only exacerbate the issue further. Kagura knew, of course, because Kagura knew everything - it was her job - but he couldn’t entrust her with the task either. As his father’s publicist and begrudging assistant, she had enough on her plate as it was.</p><p>That he’d been sleeping with her for the past four centuries was beside the point. Mostly.</p><p>Five hundred years ago, a priestess named Kikyo had been victimized by a conglomerate of lesser yokai that called itself Naraku. She had defeated it and a majority of its incarnations with apparent ease, without need for intervention, but it had heralded her untimely end. As Kagura told the story, the battle had culminated in the miko’s death and she’d taken the Jewel to the grave with her. Forever.</p><p>Only for it to be reborn with her, as well.</p><p>That was the way of such things. No matter the method, wish-making always ended less than ideally with the requests twisted and transfigured from their original purposes. Perhaps the miko had purged the Jewel from the world for a few centuries, but it had come back regardless, likely attaching itself to the reincarnation cycle in order to survive. Now it was here to annoy him until the day the child grew old enough to protect it herself. And quite possibly long after that, too. Humans were so... <em>temporary.</em></p><p>He was losing himself in the endless cycle of those thoughts when his door breezed open and Kagura strolled in, unannounced, gliding into his office like she owned the place. He didn’t so much as glance up at her from his work, seated at his desk and scrolling idly through an email: Toran's newest grim report regarding the rapidly declining state of affairs in China.</p><p>“I preferred when you were upstairs,” she stated airily, as though that were any way to start a conversation. “Less rabble to cut through.”</p><p>The rabble being, he assumed, the employees. It wasn’t an incorrect assertion.</p><p>“The view was not advantageous.”</p><p>Before this incident with the Shikon Miko had unraveled, Sesshomaru’s offices had been located on the upper floors where his father and the more elitemembers of society tended to their days. However, after having been given the job of watching over the child, he’d moved some of his workspace into an open office a few floors below— where he could clearly see the Higurashi girl’s school through the windows, nestled just beyond the edges of the political district their building stood tall in. It was better than having to abandon his work altogether to loiter around the private school, but he was suffering the company of interns and nervous clan representatives in consequence. And far fewer visits from Kagura.</p><p>“Oh?” she wondered. </p><p>Continuing his tedious scroll as she paced across the tiled floor, the room fell into silence despite the clicking of her heels. It wasn’t that she didn’t make noise. It was that all the noise around her fell wayside when she entered a room, the ambiance of the world suddenly unimportant and uninteresting in her wake. Sesshomaru found himself eternally attuned to her, incredibly deaf and senseless when she came striding into his life.</p><p>Not that he was complaining.</p><p>Kagura turned around the corner of his desk, gusting into his peripherals as she slid up beside his hand, perched on the edge of the oak tabletop as she crossed one leg over the other. He didn't miss the way her skirt split scandalously up her thigh, revealing a short stretch of supple olive skin and the hint of a black lace garter. There were crescent moons woven in its delicate design. </p><p>“Is this view not <em> advantageous </em> enough for you?”</p><p>Sesshomaru swore inside his head as she waited, red-lipped and black-heeled as he continued about his work. He considered his choices for only a moment before he lifted his hand, settling long claws on her thigh.</p><p>“I am busy.”</p><p>He said it as though that were any reason to dismiss her. There was no need to turn to know she was smirking.</p><p>“Are you?” she asked, demure and disbelieving. Clearly humoring him.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Yet his claws drifted up underneath the edge of her skirt, swirling lightly against bare skin. He leaned back in his chair, eyes still trained on the screen. Despite his insistence on being diligent with his work, he reached out with his other hand and pressed the button on his desk that would darken the windowpane walls between himself and the rabble. The only favorable feature of this infernally boring office.</p><p>“You can have whatever you like,” he allowed graciously, being the magnanimous lover he was, “but I do have work to do.”</p><p>Kagura leaned back, her left hand behind her as the right reached up and undid the ties in her hair, allowing mahogany-black locks to tumble down her chest. Sesshomaru watched it all in the corners of his vision without once flicking his gaze to her, expression intensely and falsely dispassionate.</p><p>“You think you can focus on both at once?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>It was a simple fact.</p><p>“And why do I doubt that?”</p><p>“Because you make a habit of doubting me,” he said plainly, sliding his hand further beneath the black hem of her skirt. Her skin was velvet underneath his sword-calloused palms. “I rather think you enjoy being proven wrong.”</p><p>“I rather think you’re full of yourself.”</p><p>“Yes. So you’ve claimed. At length.”</p><p>Her breath hitched as the tips of his claws skated underneath her garter, exploring towards the seam of her legs and the apex between. Jade earrings swayed daintily beside her cheeks.</p><p>“Has Father nothing for you to do?” he asked, nonchalant even as his claws brushed across delicate lace. Kagura’s plush lips twisted down in a frown.</p><p>“You really want to be talking about him <em> right now</em>?”</p><p>Sesshomaru allowed the smallest hint of amusement to tug his lips, knowing it would tease her. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties.”</p><p>His relationship with Kagura was tenuous when it was at its worse and companionable at its best, if one considered sex a companionable activity. For their first hundred years of knowing one another, she'd merely served his family, finding it difficult to obtain freedom while being constantly hunted down over the minor crime of being born by Naraku. His Father’s protection had eased the danger from her shoulders somewhat, and with his famous disregard for his vassals she’d been left with plenty of freedoms.</p><p>It wasn’t until the next century that Sesshomaru really noticed her, and from then on they’d been trapped in a cyclical relationship, forever at odds and yet always together. “On and off again,” the humans called it, though at a much greater extent than any mortal could bear. They were more together than not these days, sharing the same living spaces and enjoying one another whenever they pleased.</p><p>“Would you—”</p><p>But whatever she meant to say was lost, because in an instant, the world changed.</p><p>It happened very quickly, as most things did: as his claws crooked around the edge of her panties and Kagura wriggled lightly, doing a poor job of hiding her excitement, a large flash of movement and smoke erupted outside the window. Both yokai immediately forgot one another as Sesshomaru wrenched himself away from Kagura and stood, her hand flying to the fan that always hung on her hip as the destruction spread. The plumes seemed rather small at first, but they were also quite far away, indistinct in origin, and others were quickly following. A path was established in seconds.</p><p>One that led straight towards Higurashi’s school.</p><p>Kagura’s fan snapped open. Sesshomaru moved as she gusted a heavy gale at the window to shatter the glass for his exit, and he stepped into the sky with her winds at his feet.</p><p>Unfortunately, the attacker was quicker.</p><p>Sesshomaru arrived just as the yokai burst into the school building. It was a centipede, of sorts; a massive tail in green and purple that whipped about the sky, attached to an unseen head that had already crashed through a window in a glittering shower of glass shards. All along its thick body and tail were ivory spikes, legs tapered to deadly points, which gave him no other pause than to take note of them; in seconds, he was flying up the rectangular building, avoiding where it had gone and heading straight for the Higurashi girl’s classroom.</p><p>There was no trace of the Shikon no Tama that he could sense, which meant the girl was properly warded. This demon was attacking blindly, following rumors alone.</p><p>He was just outside her classroom when the massive creature shot out of the school roof and soared upward, creating a tan mushroom cloud of debris and dust against the bright blue backdrop of the sky. It spiraled and coiled, hanging freely in the open air and revealing itself to the world.</p><p>A woman with six spindling arms stared down at him, hair veiled night-black around her nude torso, and watched. Her face was composed with a Heian beauty, marred by a large set of fangs splitting out of the edges of her painted mouth, and the calculation in her beady eyes tipped him off to the trap he had fallen for.</p><p>“So it <em> is </em> here,” she crooned, and something vile flattened in the bottom of his stomach. “The Jewel! You dogs were hoarding it for yourselves!”</p><p><em> Not blindly, </em> Sesshomaru realized too late.</p><p>She had baited him here, and he had led it straight to the girl.</p><p>“It will be mine!”</p><p>He cursed himself and, having no other option, broke through the window in a beautiful display of sparkling glass, sending shards skittering across the tiled floors as the classroom screamed. The Centipede roared above his head, now out of sight, as Sesshomaru stepped plainly across the desks that children began to duck under. The teacher at the front of the class yelled something he did not care to hear as he reached a small girl huddled in the back corner, away from her fellow students and beside a tall bookcase.</p><p>Kagome Higurashi, the child priestess of the Shikon no Tama, stared up at him in terror.</p><p>“Sessho-sama.”</p><p>Above his head, ceiling tiles shook as the floors above them no doubt gave way to the Centipede. Without a word, he scooped the child up in his arms, summoned his pelt to his shoulder to shield her with, and flipped deftly back out of the way as the Centipede’s arms broke violently through the ceiling above.</p><p>Only to have her tail thrash down through the tiles as well, and whip straight into his back.</p><p>He crashed forward through the wall into the hallway, somersaulting through drywall and paint. The girl screamed in his arms, wisely clinging onto him for dear life while protected from the violence behind his pelt. Twisting, he caught himself on his heels in the hallway, back slamming against the windowed wall that looked out on the schoolyard.</p><p>He righted himself just in time to see the Centipede Woman’s fanged face through the hole he’d left in the wall, a long tongue lolling out between her lips as she shrieked at him in glee.</p><p>
  <em> Wretch. </em>
</p><p>There was another crash, another thrash, and her tail was striking through the wall and obscuring her from view, pointed straight at him. But he was ready; Sesshomaru shifted aside, cracked his knuckles, and her attack shattered harmlessly through the window over his right shoulder — his green talons ripping, lancing, and dragging along her side the entire way.</p><p>The yokai wailed as part of her body began to literally melt off her bones, sloughing away in chunks with emerald smoke. Sesshomaru took the opportunity to move freely, wrenching open the window to his left and stepping out into the open sky.</p><p>“I wore it, I wore it, I promise, I wore it,” the young girl was babbling into his chest, crying and sniffling, but he paid her no mind. He knew she was wearing her warding. T he small omamori charm that most yokai employed to hide their yoki worked well enough to conceal the presence of the Shikon no Tama within her , and had been crucial in keeping the Jewel undetected thus far. But after those damn wolves had caught wind of her when she hadn’t been wearing it, it now served only to disguise a rumor.</p><p>A rumor that this Centipede had managed to get him to confirm as true.</p><p>“Silence.”</p><p>The Centipede was back, howling, and he had to twist aside in mid-air to avoid the massive swipe of her gored body as it came arching down over him. There was no getting out of this fight without killing her, but he was hobbled by this child. She was the target, not him; he couldn’t leave her on the outskirts of battle without opening her to attack, but he also couldn’t act as quickly - or easily - with her on his person.</p><p>“I will have it!” the creature screamed, twisting her massive body, flying at him with all her arms bared and pointed, the stretch of her gored spine flashing brightly against the sun. Oozing with jade poison and purple blood, the Centipede persisted despite her anguish, overcome by greed and lust. “Give it to me, you mangy bastard!”</p><p>It was only a matter of time before the Centipede took to killing everything else around her in an attempt to provoke him into a hasty attack. So far very little human blood had been split, which meant the situation was salvageable. But if she started massacring human children while he was present, it would cause an international scandal — if not outright war.</p><p>He had three options: first, set the girl aside and put her at risk, despite the fact his father had placed her under their protection, and attack; second, attack as he pleased, and put the girl in danger’s way amid the slaughter; or third, neutralized the child as a target, and bait the creature to face him alone.</p><p>After today, there’d be no denying the existence of the Jewel. The Centipede had seen to that and so had he, giving credence to her motives by responding to her attack. They would have to address it, and then find some way to keep the Higurashi family safe in the aftermath.</p><p>
  <em> Or. </em>
</p><p>There was a familiar presence fast approaching, dark and formidable. To keep this situation from spiraling, Sesshomaru would have to take a risk of his own.</p><p>With little mercy, he shifted the child in his arm and mercilessly lanced his claws straight into her flesh, hooking around the tiny bead embedded in her hip. She screamed and writhed and he held her fast, knowing this was for her own good as he wrenched the glistening Jewel free in a flash of bloody gore. Giving no thought to hesitation, he threw the Shikon no Tama into the open sky. Black amethyst light flashed in the corner of his vision.</p><p>“Then have it, monster.”</p><p>The Centipede Woman shrieked with joy as she twisted, turned, and lurched, reaching for her prize with her slickened tongue. It curled around the jewel, drooling, and the pink gem bled to black as she swallowed it whole. Floating in mid-air, cracking his bloody claws, Sesshomaru watched as she boiled from within, changing into a wretched parody of herself as its powers corrupted her. The Centipede cried out with victory and turned on him, skin leathering as it hardened, fangs lengthening, eyes bulging, poison dripping and—</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Newsworthy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains references to past sexual abuse and non-consensual sex/rape.</strong>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  —So’unga slid neatly into her side. 
</p><p>
  For a moment, all five of them hovered in the air: the Inu no Taisho, impossible and powerful, long-haired and vicious, wielding an ancient sword with fatal intent; that sword and its hateful dragon within struck through the belly of the beast in a spectacular spray of ruby droplets; the tiny Shikon Miko, crying and curled into the crook of Sesshomaru’s arm, hidden away behind a mass of armored fluff; Sesshomaru, protecting that human child; and Mistress Centipede herself, corrupted and ugly, screaming at the top of her lungs. 
</p><p>
  Together they were frozen in this twisted tableau, a cruel parody of the battles that had plagued the lands when yokai had reigned. Toga was a ghost of himself, more phantom than man, dressed in the garb of a warlord— a warlord without armor, without armies, and without rule, that had died so long ago. His son looked as fitting as any demon could in this world, but the fur of his true form was a stark reminder that Sesshomaru was, in fact, nothing like the humans he was forced to tolerate. Together they protected a miko that was merely a child, frightened to the point of trauma, so woefully unprepared for the destiny fate had given her. 
</p><p>
  And in the middle of all of it, an ancient evil blade pulsed with amethyst light as it devoured the life of Mistress Centipede, spurred by greed and lust and blood. Within her, a glistening pink jewel had turned black, and Toga gutted his prey before So’unga could take the Shikon no Tama for itself. 
</p><p>
  Time resumed. 
</p><p>
  Sesshomaru tucked little Kagome closer, covering her almost completely with his pelt as he twisted backwards, flipping into an assisted freefall back to earth as he narrowly avoided the incoming blood shower. Toga didn’t bother watching him go as his sword screamed between his palms, enraged that its chance at freedom had been so quickly dashed. He wrenched his blade aside, cutting her belly, and then twisted and hauled up, splitting her with the same ease that one would split a log. Mistress Centipede wailed and then made no other noise but cracking and squelching, becoming more fountain than demon, her long body bursting with blood from the gaping maw her torso had become. 
</p><p>
  Slicked red with her blood, Toga watched that tiny, terrible black jewel jet out from the gore of her corpse, shooting skyward like a wayward star. With a burst of yoki beneath his feet, he followed its trajectory, easily plucking that glistening nightmare from the sky and following his son back down to earth. Like a meteor falling, he crash landed beside his son in the middle of the schoolyard, but the centipede fell harder after him. Her enormous body unraveled in deafening crashes nearby, falling and crushing play areas, cracking cement and bending trees in a terrifying display of bones, blood, and flesh that would forever scar anyone who bothered to come across her.  
</p><p>
  Toga stabbed So’unga in the ground, separating himself from the demon blade and casting a wide barrier around the school. No one would enter— but no one would leave, either. He wouldn’t be able to maintain the barrier for long, but every second that he could was critical.
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Inu no Taisho.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  Toga’s gaze fell down to the jewel in his hand, swirling black and shining with vivid stripes of violet. It was the same pull he had felt when he’d stumbled past the Higurashi shrine that day, a sort of power that called out so softly that it was easy to miss the barbs and fangs it wanted to sink into your soul.
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>What is it you most desire?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  Long black tendrils were twisting, crawling, vining through his mind, chasing down the same yoki paths that connected him to the hellbeast in his sword. So’unga, though terrifying, was but one soul; this was a hundred, a thousand more, all yearning for more power, searching for the fury that could keep their endless fight eternal.
</p><p>
  He tried slamming his mental defenses down, ruby claws twitching over the tiny gem, but it was too late. A vine had slithered into his memory, slipping into the still pools of his mind, where thousands of years lay stagnant in peace.
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>A woman?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  Izayoi was found all too quickly, doomed by the fact that her memories lay glistening on the surface. She was the only movement, the only change he’d felt in centuries; like a petal falling on the surface of a still lake, she’d left ripples in him, and those waters had yet to calm.
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>A human woman.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  On the glassy surface of time, he saw her as she was now: an image of beauty and grace reflected on the silver waters, so close and yet impossible to touch, always just out of his reach. The vine twisted and the ripples grew, distorting her image. Toga watched as they settled and saw a new woman, different than the one he knew now. A beauty from a different age, with raven hair that swept heavy to the floor, adorned with many layers of silk that spoke to her status. She was quiet and demure and undeniably Heian, with lips painted red like a dying star. 
</p><p>
  The jewel showed him what she was, what she had been, and what she could possibly be.
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>We can make her eternal.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  Another glowing petal fell, floating serenely across the surface and casting her past lives aside. He saw the woman he knew now, but when she smiled at him, her eyes were hazel. Eternal, like his.
</p><p>
  Toga wondered.
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Just wish it and it shall be.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  He considered.
</p><p>
  And then—
</p><p>
  “Father.” Two slender fingers plucked the jewel from his palm. Toga blinked, startled roughly from his thoughts, and flicked his gaze up to his son. “Focus.” 
</p><p>
  Sesshomaru held both the Shikon no Tama and its miko, unperturbed by the influence of the jewel and completely oblivious to its machinations.  Kagome had gone limp in his hold, but the moment his golden gaze fell upon her she cringed away, whining pitifully. Her hip was bloody but she seemed in no true danger, only traumatized by the events that had unfolded around her. 
</p><p>
  “Girl.” 
</p><p>
  She didn’t respond, seemingly afraid of him, so he simply did as he wanted, uncurling one of her tiny fists and placing the jewel inside it. Immediately, the black bled out to pure pink, all its corruption banished at her mere touch. Her power was so potent that she didn’t even need to try.
</p><p>
  Sesshomaru pried the jewel back from her and it remained in its pure state, signaling his true disregard for its power. He had never been one to accept outside influence, whether it was to gain power or to further his goals. Oddly, it seemed as though he’d be a perfect keeper for the cursed thing.
</p><p>
  “Take her.”
</p><p>
  Toga took her when he passed her over, feeling as though he’d finally come back into his own body. Sesshomaru glanced back towards the school and its wreckage, entirely clinical in his regard. 
</p><p>
  “We don’t have much time,” he said plainly. “There are cameras.”
</p><p>
  Toga let Kagome cling to him, cradling her in his arm as she hid her face in his bloody shirt. There was no trying to cover up the secret this time.
</p><p>
  “Go,” he decided. “Before others come looking. I’ll handle the rest.”
</p><p>
  Sesshomaru nodded shortly, sparing the child only the briefest of glances before taking to the skies and leaving her and all this wreckage behind. Wordlessly, he tucked that glistening jewel into his pocket.
</p><p>
  Toga watched his son go and cursed the universe.
</p>
<hr/><p>
  Kagome’s mother was among the rabble of worried parents gathered outside the school. It was an impressive scene of crying families and startled staff, punctuated with the flashing lights of police vehicles and medical vans. Paramedics rushed in and out of the school and, carefully, Toga passed Kagome off to one of them— a woman that didn’t appear to be freshly out of training, having that weathered sort of look that spoke to long experience and practiced calm. 
</p><p>
  At a single whiff of her, he also knew she was hanyo.
</p><p>
  “She’s not to speak with anyone,” he commanded, and the hanyo nodded. Not all half-breeds answered to him, but it would be foolish not to in this circumstance. “Her mother is just there,” he added, pointing Mrs. Higurashi out of the crowd. “Reunite them. Direct any complaints to me.”
</p><p>
  “Of course, my Lord,” the woman muttered, and off she went with that unfortunate little miko, hurrying her away to tend to her wounds. 
</p><p>
  Were she any other child, she might’ve been young enough to repress such a traumatizing day. But fate would not be that kind to her. Once she was grown, he knew she would have to take her charge over the jewel, and this moment would simply become one of many that would haunt her until the day she died. 
</p><p>
  Turning from her, he tried to leave those thoughts for another day. Right now, both the present and the past were demanding his attention, refusing to allow him to think towards the future.
</p><p>
  “Inu no Taisho.”
</p><p>
  From across the bustle of emergency responders, Toga caught sight of the National Police Agency’s Commissioner calling his name: Takemaru Setsuna, the oddly young chief of the prefecture, with whom he was well acquainted. He was standing alongside a polished black sedan, parked up on the grass out of the way of the growing crowd. 
</p><p>
  “Commissioner,” he answered plainly, crossing to meet him and all his support staff, most of whom were busy trying to calm the press that was quickly gathering. 
</p><p>
  Takemaru nodded in a short bow, straightening up and folding his hands behind his back. His sharp gaze turned to the crowd and its clicking cameras, sharp and calculating.
</p><p>
  “Shall we?” he proposed.
</p><p>
  Toga didn’t sigh, though he wished he could.
</p><p>
  “If we must.”
</p>
<hr/><p>
  Covered in blood and gore, wearing the garb and the sword that belonged to the warlord he had been, Toga stood beside the Commissioner of the city and let him speak. Takemaru was concise and well-spoken, practiced at addressing the public in a way that would both calm and satisfy them: there would be a press conference tomorrow with formal statements from all parties; there were extensive damages to the school, but less than twenty documented injuries; no deaths had been reported. He thanked the Inu no Taisho and his son for their timely intervention, and further updates on the status of the injured would come at a later time.
</p><p>
  When Toga spoke, it was only to say that rumors would be addressed the following day, and any similar crimes would be met with the same execution that the perpetrator here had suffered.  Nothing more. 
</p><p>
  And until tomorrow, that was all. 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  Toga returned home.
</p><p>
  Stepping over the threshold into his empty apartment, he finally let the tension slide out of his shoulders as he sighed. Not even bothering to take his boots off, he made his way through his small  home and headed straight into the bathroom, more than ready to be done with all the dried blood smeared across his face. 
</p><p>
  Thoughtlessly, he fished his cellphone out of his kimono and tossed it on the marbled countertop, only seeing the ghost of his reflection as he began to undress himself, pulling at his obi and tugging apart the knot. In the mirror his figure was white and red and silver against a backdrop of cream fur, everything about the image starkly out of place against the polished faucets and modern refinery. So’unga’s hilt glimmered strangely against the pure white LED light.
</p><p>
  <em>
    What are you, 
  </em>
  that sword taunted, just as Toga registered the feeling of its fangs dragging through his skull, cracking apart the seams and delving deep where it wasn’t wanted. 
  <em>
    What have you become?
  </em>
</p><p>
  His hands stilled and he glanced up to glare at the sword’s reflection, but instead found himself faced with an image that froze the blood in his veins.
</p><p>
  There was a warlord standing in his bathroom.
</p><p>
  It was himself, of course. The image was perhaps slightly less intimidating without the armor, but it was him all the same, a fragment of his being called back from another time. Toga stared at the sight, seeing himself for the first time: his hair tied high, face and chest streaked in purple blood, his well-worn kimono hanging naturally off his frame. So’unga pulsed lightly on his back, casting strange amethyst fractals of light in the mirror.
</p><p>
  <em>
    You are the slayer of centuries. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  Yes, he was.
</p><p>
  But when was the last time he had fought? When was the last time he’d drawn his sword, slain an enemy, and stood covered in their blood? When was the last time he’d conquered? When was the last time he’d stood as himself? Unfettered, undisguised? Plain and true?
</p><p>
  <em>
    And yet you’ve devoted yourself to a human?
  </em>
</p><p>
  So’unga laughed as Toga saw a vision in his reflection, the image of a different man standing in the mirror haunting him. Mussed and sleepy-eyed, Toga stood yawning, considering the short-haired mess he was. Considering the fact that he had just been brought to his knees at the word of a human woman.
</p><p>
  <em>
    Inu no Taisho, indeed.
  </em>
</p><p>
  With a sharp, furious snap of his yoki, the sword and all his demons trapping were hauled back, forced away, and disappeared into the hollow indistinct nothingness that existed between his forms. Both the warlord and the vision were gone. Toga stood alone, bereft and angry, staring at the mockingly long strait of silver hair that flowed down his shoulder.
</p>
<hr/><p>
  The next morning, Toga forced his mind into silence and dressed for the day.
</p><p>
  He didn’t text Izayoi good morning, just as he’d neglected to text her good night. Suddenly unsettled by the idea of her - by the idea of himself on his knees, conquered - he abandoned his normal routines and focused only on the day ahead: on issues of State, matters of business, and everything but the secrets of his personal life.
</p><p>
  Mistress Centipede’s body had been disposed of, burned, and the ashes sealed in an attempt to circumvent her annoying habit of revival. Sesshomaru was on his way to the National Police Agency Headquarters where the press conference would be held, always one to arrive before his Father as a matter of security. The press was fast gathering and by the time Toga arrived, even demonkind had begun to gather. 
</p><p>
  It wasn’t long before he stood with his son inside the Headquarters, gazing out upon the restless crowd from a high window. The rest of the figureheads and speakers that had been called to this event had cordoned themselves off in one of the larger conference rooms, but Sesshomaru and Toga weren’t ones to mingle with humankind unless expected to; they were content to stand in the hall and keep their unofficial watch, able to both monitor the crowd and the happenings within the building from where they stood.
</p><p>
  All was well until the elevator down the hall opened and sent a particular scent sweeping straight by them.
</p><p>
  <em>
    Izayoi.
  </em>
</p><p>
  He was content to ignore her, which was likely for the best. Izayoi, dressed in an elegant shade of dark blue, swept down her path and offered him the same treatment, not once breaking from her hushed conversation with her assistant as she passed them by. Toga never looked aside to see her, but watched her from his peripherals instead — hating himself all the while, cursing how watching her felt so natural. 
</p><p>
  “...he’s requested—” her assistant sputtered, but Izayoi seemed to be having none of it.
</p><p>
  “No.”
</p><p>
  “But Izayoi-sama, he really 
  <em>
    is
  </em>
   insisting. Only a few moments of your time.”
</p><p>
  “No. And that’s the end of the matter, Miyuki. Tell him he can schedule time like everyone else.”
</p><p>
  “He has! You keep pushing off his appointments, Miss.”
</p><p>
  “I’m well aware.”
</p><p>
  “So maybe…?”
</p><p>
  “No, Miyuki. That’s final.”
</p><p>
  Her assistant, Miyuki, seemed to deflate at Izayoi’s stern tone. Toga’s gaze never left the window, idly scanning over the crowd down below to see what demon lords had sent representatives and which had attended themselves. There were plenty of the former and only one of the latter, but the one in attendance was no surprise. Koga showed up to everything, no matter how menial. Toga got the impression he didn’t trust his underlings when it came to politics, which, based on his limited interactions with those two bumbling buffoons, was a rather wise decision.
</p><p>
  The door to the conference room opened and closed as the two women stepped inside, sweeping themselves out of his immediate range of hearing. 
</p><p>
  “Humanitarians?” Sesshomaru commented, unprompted. Toga turned to see his son’s eyebrows arched in skepticism.
</p><p>
  “Relief for the families,” he explained flatly, monotone, but there was an edge to it that suggested he was guessing. It seemed to be an acceptable enough response. Sesshomaru made a sound that was characteristically indecipherable, completely baffling to anyone who wasn’t used to his demeanor. Toga’s gaze returned to the glass as he hooked a finger under the knot of his tie, his transparent reflection tugging lightly at the constricting fabric.
</p><p>
  There was a half hour yet to go. Toga’s patience was slowly waning, having no desire to address the Shikon no Tama that was now hanging heavy around his son’s neck. It was hidden, of course, and his Mother had warded it more effectively than any concealment charm could, but it was still there— likely speaking to him, as it had spoken to Toga. 
</p><p>
  Unless, of course, Sesshomaru had already managed to bully the Jewel of Ages into silence. 
</p><p>
  As time passed, Toga noted a few other things in short order: first, that Izayoi’s assistant had left the conference room without her; second, that a few others had done the same shortly after, bustling about needing to reprint a speech; and third, that Takemaru had finally emerged from his office and entered the conference room after they’d gone. His mind wandered unwillingly towards thoughts of Izayoi, the only one who hadn’t moved since entering the room, and his brow furrowed slightly. 
</p><p>
  Who was he if he bent to her will so easily? 
</p><p>
  Izayoi’s command over him was strange and sharp, woven through his muscles as naturally as the veins that twined around them. One pull and she could unravel him, unwinding four millennia into the palms of her hand. Power was who you knew and who feared you; who was she, if he allowed himself to come undone so easily for her?
</p><p>
  Perhaps it was time to call off these games. He was becoming dangerously malleable. If he gave in completely, what would she make of him? What would his subjects make of their Lord brought down so swiftly, so easily, at the feet of a mortal? 
</p><p>
  But before he could give more consideration to the thought, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Without thinking anything of it, expecting it to be his publicist - who’d been suspiciously quiet today - Toga withdrew the device and glanced at the screen.
</p><p>
  A single world blazed like a beacon in his hands.
</p><p>
      <em>
    Indigo.
  </em>
</p><p>
  It was as if he’d never had a single doubt about her. The word lanced straight into his chest with barbed points, no different than a grappling hook digging in deep and yanking him directly to her. His gaze flicked openly to the conference room where she was and—
</p><p>
  Its glass walls were now shuttered by privacy blinds. 
</p><p>
  It took all his control to ground himself in the present moment. Not to be immediately pulled to her side. There was too much wrapped up in that word for him to derive a singular meaning, so he forced himself to still, mechanically putting his phone back in his pocket. Instead of rushing anywhere, distinctly aware of how many eyes were on him today, he attuned his senses, closing his eyes and directing his focus on the room where she was. Listening.
</p><p>
  Her voice reached him first.
</p><p>
  “—told you, Commissioner. I’m not interested.”
</p><p>
  <em>
    Takemaru?
  </em>
</p><p>
  “After all of that?” 
</p><p>
  The Commissioner’s voice was strangely stilted, dipped low in a way Toga was not accustomed to. They sounded close to one another, perhaps in the farthest point of the room from which he was currently standing. 
</p><p>
  “Yes.<em> Exactly,</em>” Izayoi hissed. “You don’t know when to <em>stop</em> and I’m <em>done</em>—”
</p><p>
  “You’re blowing things out of proportion.”
</p><p>
  “Scarlet meant stop, Takemaru, and you didn’t. How is that blowing things out of proportion?”
</p><p>
  Instantly, everything else was lost. Toga’s blood turned to granite in his veins, his muscles to marble, and his skin to stone. It was all he could do to contain his yoki, to keep his power at bay as the realization crashed down. The weight of it was so enormous that it felt as though the entire tower had folded and collapsed onto his shoulders, shattering his perception of reality.
</p><p>
  Takemaru had been the one. 
</p><p>
  He was distracted from them by the sound of Sesshomaru’s voice, gruffly interrupting his focus with a practiced verbal swipe.
</p><p>
  “Not our business.” 
</p><p>
  His voice was meant only for Toga, a clear warning that he was being more transparent than he thought. Perhaps he was holding himself statuesque— perhaps he had even managed to keep his expression impassive, but that didn’t change the fact that if he opened his eyes, the world would see the violent ruby and sapphire colors of his fury. 
</p><p>
  In that exact moment, he knew that it didn’t matter how he felt about himself. How Izayoi had changed him. The world converged into a singular point, gravity shifted, and he was irrevocably resigned to his fate. Wherever she was, he would be; whoever stood in her way, he would destroy. Loyalty had taken hold and dug its claws deep, binding his wellbeing to hers. 
</p><p>
  This wasn’t only a matter of pride and ego and justice. It was a matter of having someone to protect.
</p><p>
  So Toga went, ignoring his son’s frustration as he stepped towards the conference room and sealed his fate. 
  The door opened silently and closed all the same, neither occupant noticing his entrance. Toga stood silent over the threshold, taking in the sight of them.
</p><p>
  Izayoi had been backed into a corner and Takemaru, in his formal uniform, stood before her, arms crossed over his chest. The tension was palpable, the hatred directed at him entirely one-sided. In return, Izayoi’s fury was gifted with creeping desire.
</p><p>
  “—ridiculous,” he was saying. “Don’t you at least owe me the time of day to discuss it?”
</p><p>
  “There’s nothing to discuss. We’re done.” Her hands were shaking but she was hiding it well, fists held at her sides. “I don’t owe you anything. You need to leave.”
</p><p>
  “You owe me plenty.”
</p><p>
  Toga cleared his throat. Loudly. Izayoi’s eyes flew to him, wide and startled, but Takemaru didn’t so much as turn a single fraction in his direction.
</p><p>
  “I’ll be out in a minute,” he snapped, making the fatal error of assuming that the Inu no Taisho was one of his aides.
</p><p>
  The atmosphere darkened. Toga moved swiftly across the room, not giving the man another chance before he was clasping one hand in his styled hair, steering him up and back with a wrenching fist. Izayoi was doe-eyed and breathless as Takemaru choked in surprise, a strangled noise sputtering out of his throat as Toga manhandled him.
</p><p>
  “Commissioner.” His voice was lace and lightning, velvet and thunder. As dangerous as it was, it was also smooth and controlled, no different than ocean waves beneath an encroaching storm. “I believe I heard the young lady ask you leave.” Yellow eyes flashed to Izayoi’s brown, somehow glowing in the dark even when there was none. “Didn’t I?”
</p><p>
  He watched her steady herself, a gust of emotion rolling out of her with an exhale, and she nodded. “Yes, you did.”
</p><p>
  Not giving him the opportunity to counter, Toga bodily turned Takemaru away from his unwilling prize, depositing him roughly aside. There was fear on the air from both parties; one waning, one growing. But the wound to Takemaru’s pride was even stronger, turning him around to face the daiyokai that had apprehended him. 
</p><p>
  “Are you
  <em>mad</em>?” he snapped, pushing his hair back into something presentable. Or at least tying to. 
</p><p>
  “Were you yokai, I would’ve gutted you where you stood.” Behind him, Izayoi sucked in a breath, though it was nearly inaudible in its sharpness. Takemaru’s eyes widened offensively. “I suggest you leave.”
</p><p>
  “Are you threatening me?”
</p><p>
  “No. You are not yokai.” Toga’s gaze narrowed in challenge, the colors of his markings darkening slightly in tone. “Perhaps your time would be best spent doing your job, Commissioner, instead of harassing your constituents.”
</p><p>
  “This is a personal matter.” Takemaru, to his credit, did not back down. In anyone else Toga might’ve admired that sort of reckless courage, but the man before him had just spectacularly fallen from grace. “And you’ve no place to command me, <em>demon.</em>”
</p><p>
  <em>
    Ah.
  </em>
</p><p>
  So there it was. The simmering hate always carefully maintained beneath the surface, finally brought to light. Takemaru’s disdain for yokai had never been a secret, but thus far he’d always kept his opinions elsewhere when interacting with demonkind. It was the law he followed, not the rule of his bitter heart. 
</p><p>
  What was it about Izayoi that always brought men to show their true colors?
</p><p>
  “You forget yourself,” the Inu no Taisho warned, his voice wrapping the room with a sudden chill. Takemaru blistered. There was no need to speak any threats aloud— his presence did that well enough, his terrible gaze a reminder that he could not be overcome. In terms of rank, Takemaru was the ant beneath the boot. Toga could destroy him without touching him, speak to the Head of State that did, in fact, match his rank, and undo the Commissioner’s entire life and career with only a few devastating sentences. 
</p><p>
  The moment stretched on, stretched thin, and then snapped.
</p><p>
  “We’ll finish this later, Izayoi-sama,” Takemaru said, as if his words held any influence at all, and then he was gone from the room with a flick and turn on his heels.
</p><p>
  Toga entertained the thought of killing him long after the door swung shut behind him.
</p><p>
  In the wake of his exit, there was only silence. Neither Izayoi or her protector spoke, both radiating with different sorts of anger: one indignant and traumatic, while the other was simply brazen fury, righteous in its murderous urges. Toga wanted nothing more than to turn and take his lover in his arms, to comfort her and bury his anger away, but he knew it couldn’t be done. In public it was as if they were two magnets repelling each other, always forced apart, unable to cross the invisible barrier between them. 
</p><p>
  Still, there was one thing he could do.
</p><p>
  “Are you all right?”
</p><p>
  Shaking, she managed an answer.
</p><p>
  “Yes, thank you.”
</p><p>
  The truth would have to come later.
</p>
<hr/><p>
  The press conference happened. There was very little to say on the matter, because very little had been said at all. Izayoi stood back with others who were there to make an appearance but say nothing, merely figures of support in times of trouble. Takemaru took to the podium first and spoke in regard to the families, the school, the injured, and the city. For a time, he fielded questions from the press.
</p><p>
  Then he stepped aside to allow Toga the podium, retreating into the background to allow the yokai lords to speak. Sesshomaru stood stoic beside his father as the Inu no Taisho spoke plainly, without nuance, and told the world what was true:
</p><p>
  The Shikon no Tama had returned and would remain in the possession of his family. All challenges would be answered. All challengers would fail. The Jewel would not be utilized and would be returned to humanity when a suitable Shikon Miko was found. 
</p><p>
  And that was all. 
</p><p>
  Questions erupted en masse as he moved to leave, as they always did. But he never answered them. He wasn’t beholden to the questions of humankind and never would be. If there was a demon lord who demanded an audience, they would call one.
</p><p>
  And he was quite certain they would.
</p><p>
  After that, there was no time wasted in leaving. Once his time at the podium was done, he and Sesshomaru went straight to their respective vehicles before any unassuming young journalist decided it would be a good idea to try and approach them. Toga ducked down into the driver’s seat without thought, barely seeing the glistening blackness of the armored vehicle even as he situated himself inside it. He just wanted to leave. Starting the engine, he fought with his own vicious thoughts, knowing he couldn’t stay here much longer. He had to get as far away from this damn place as he could, before he took Takemaru by his scrawny little neck and—
</p><p>
  The passenger door opened inexplicably and Izayoi slid into the seat beside him, calm and composed and completely out of place.
</p><p>
  “Go, Toga.”
</p><p>
  Thoughts stuttering, his body moved on instinct alone. Izayoi ducked down and hid her face behind her hair as the car rolled out of the parking lot, gliding away from the crowds of press and - more importantly - the yokai representatives that reported even the smallest of irregularities to their lords. Neither of them spoke as he drove them far from the police headquarters and out of the city ward full of onlookers, his copper gaze peeled for any safe place where he could pull over and demand to know why she was being so reckless. If anyone had seen her they were both doomed; it wasn’t an easy thing to explain away a human woman getting into his car without immediately being ejected.
</p><p>
  He wasn’t angry with her, exactly, but the tension was palpable. 
</p><p>
  Sensing she’d be better hid in the back of the car, Izayoi eventually clambered back over her seat into the safer spaces behind him, laying down flat across the seats. Eventually, he found an acceptable spot alongside a small park on the outskirts of a residential district, his worries tempered by the distinct lack of security cameras in the area. 
</p><p>
  But before he could so much as a single word out, her hands were on him.
</p><p>
  The moment he stopped the car, she was pulling him to her, between the driver’s and passenger’s seats and into the back, not caring that he could barely fit through the narrow spaces. Her hands were hungry, desperately so, and she wouldn’t be denied. He practically tumbled on top of her, catching himself on headrests as she wrestled his jacket off, not saying a word as her lips surged up to his like a wave cresting, crashing over him and dragging him down into her deep.
</p><p>
  “Izayoi,” he managed, catching a quick breath between her demanding kisses. “A moment—”
</p><p>
  “Shut up.”
</p><p>
  Her fingers were fluttering fast over his shirt, rending apart buttons and hastily pressing the fabric aside. There was something incredibly sharp about every movement, unnatural and stuttering. Even as her fingers scratched greedily over his chest, teeth dragging over his lips, he couldn’t ignore the strangeness festering in his chest. It was as if she’d been starved of him for weeks. There was strife in her mouth, an endless torment in her touches that spoke to more than just base desire.
</p><p>
  With every groan she pulled out of him, the idea that this had nothing to do with him began to hook its claws deeper into the back of his mind. 
</p><p>
  When Izayoi tugged his shirtends free from his slacks, one of her hands dove up into his hair and tangled in the base of his ponytail, the other sliding around his bare ribcage to brace herself against him. Her softness was exquisite against his chest and he longed to touch her, but caution steadied his hands where they were on the leather seats.
</p><p>
  “Don’t you ever cut this again,” she commanded, hungrily pressing kisses along his jaw, hooking her leg around his hip as she nipped his earlobe. Toga swallowed his distractions, trying to focus as she tugged his hair. 
</p><p>
  “All right,” he mumbled thoughtlessly, finding it ever more difficult to ignore the growing arousal between his legs. “Izayoi, wait—”
</p><p>
  She silenced him with another hungry kiss, grinding her hips tantalizingly against his. Everything about it felt right, but it was impossible to ignore the wrong: the sorrow on her scent, the blossoming desperation of her arousal, and the bitter taste of shadows on her lips, haunting in its intensity. Though her actions betrayed the simmering blackness buzzing underneath her skin, she was more transparent than she thought.
</p><p>
  “Undress me already,” she demanded breathily, undoing the simple tie of his hair and letting his silver locks fall down resplendent around her, a waterfall of moonpale strands against her darkness. “Don’t make me wait, Toga.”
</p><p>
  “Izayoi, stop,” he called her name for a third time, but again it didn’t reach her. Instead she wrestled him around - and around he went, because he didn’t want her to hurt herself in the effort - and onto his back so she was on top of him, barely hidden behind the tint of the darkened windows. Without regard for his protests, she crashed her lips down on his again and began to fumble with the buckles and buttons of his pants.
</p><p>
  This wasn’t 
  <em>
    right.
  </em>
</p><p>
  That was when his hands finally flew to her, but not in agreement. Claws braced around her wrists with a steel grip, he spoke the one word that would put a stop to her endeavors. 
</p><p>
  “Indigo.”
</p><p>
  Twice in a single day that unbreakable vow had been invoked. 
</p><p>
  Twice the world had stopped.
</p><p>
  Izayoi turned to stone above him, her entire body rendered silent and still with that single utterance. Somehow, there was something more sorrowful about that than anything she had done thus far. 
</p><p>
  “Izayoi,” he said finally, feeling his heart begin to crack behind his ribs as she screwed her eyes shut, chin falling shamefully to her chest. Her hands draped limply against his navel and he carefully slipped his hands down from her wrists, lacing their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. “What’s going on?”
</p><p>
  This wasn’t her. Recklessly stealing away into his car, pushing herself onto him, demanding everything without an ounce of control over her own actions— this wasn’t the woman he’d devoted himself to. Even on their first night in this very car, in this very place, she’d been composed. Inflamed and enticed by the thrill of being caught, perhaps, but this wasn’t that. This was something else. Hollow and scornful, desperate and longing.
</p><p>
  “...I don’t know,” she whispered. Her fingers trembled lightly between his, prompting him to bring them to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly. With inhuman grace he moved them both in an easy swirl, sitting up and putting his back to the leather as she straddled his hips, knees bent against the seat on either side of his thighs. 
</p><p>
  “My Izayoi,” he murmured, trying to call her back to him as he slipped his hand up under her chin, steering her gaze away from the middle space between them. Disheveled and breathless as they were, he seemed incredibly soft despite his steel embrace, gazing down at her tragic, stained-glass beauty with all the adoration in the world. “Am I the only one who knows?”
</p><p>
  It was only a suspicion that Takemaru had inspired such wild behavior from her, but it seemed he’d guessed right. Correct or not, though, it only caused a rend in her expression, shattering whatever kindness had been there into painful offense.
</p><p>
  “You think I want to have sex with you because of <em>him</em>?”
</p><p>
  Disgusted and hurt, she tried to separate herself from him only to find his grip on her hip unbreakable. 
</p><p>
  “No, I don’t,” his voice was solid, inescapably genuine in its honesty. It was enough to give her pause. “I think you want to forget him.” 
</p><p>
  Her offense melted away in slow fractions, fingers trembling again lightly where they’d ended up on his chest. Stubbornly, she shook her head, but it was more to herself than in response to anything he’d said. For a time she was unreachable in her thoughts. Toga simply wound his arms around her, eternally patient as he waited for her to return to him. 
</p><p>
  When she spoke, her voice was a thousand miles away. 
</p><p>
  “...he doesn’t even think he did anything wrong,” she whispered, the tone almost mournful. Mourning what, he couldn’t know. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”
</p><p>
  He watched her in silence, heartstrings singing as her expressions contorted and twisted. The only comfort he could offer was to tuck her hair behind her ear, long claws ghosting lightly over her cheek. 
</p><p>
  “He held me down and he—” her voice cut off abruptly, shaking as she sucked in a breath. “How could that not be?”
</p><p>
  “It is.” The validation seemed to only make her shake more violently. Toga held her steady, catching her broken gaze in his own. “There’s no doubt, Izayoi.” 
</p><p>
  “I know.”
</p><p>
  Even now, she didn’t break down. Heaving a great sigh instead, she leaned forward and tucked her face in the warm hollow of his throat and shoulder, nestling there to sort her thoughts. It felt only natural to cage his arms about her, shielding her from the outside world.
</p><p>
  It was a long time before she spoke again.
</p><p>
  “I’ve always had to face it alone,” she whispered, hands creeping over his open shirt and around his ribs as she slowly twined her arms up and over his shoulders, bracketing herself to his chest. “I just wanted to thank you.”
</p><p>
  “For what?”
</p><p>
  Finally, some of the anguish began to seep out of her body. The sudden flush in her cheeks felt warm against his skin, spurred to life by her soft sentiments.
</p><p>
  “Protecting me.”
</p><p>
  Dipping his face low, he hid the beginnings of a smile in her hair, rumbling satisfactorily in her embrace. 
</p><p>
  “Then thank me, if you like,” he allowed, pressing a kiss against her scalp. “But I do accept other forms of currency than sex, you know.”
</p><p>
  Even though her giggle sounded a little sad, it seemed like the worst of the storm had passed. Pulling away so she could see his face, Izayoi’s voice was nothing but gentle as she leaned up to kiss him again.
</p><p>
  “Thank you, Toga.”
</p><p>
  It was just a kiss — and, for him, a kiss was more than enough.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Relinquish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  Time passed.
</p><p>
  There was no changing what had happened. The Shikon Jewel had returned to the world, and with it, the world changed. That his family possessed it did nothing more than turn all eyes upon them, but there were few yet that had made a challenge. It would likely take years before anyone would. For the moment, it only meant he was busier at work, under more scrutiny as he continued about his days, but there was always a small sanctuary to which he could turn.
</p><p>
  Izayoi’s home became his own every Friday night, and he’d rarely leave it before Monday morning.
</p>
<hr/><p>
  One of those Friday nights, Toga stepped through her door and Izayoi decided to turn his world upside down. He’d only just undone the topmost button of his shirt when she put her hands over his, halting him in his familiar routine. Toga’s fingers stilled immediately as they stood together in the genkan, his eyes gliding down to hers in question.
</p><p>
  “Izayoi?” 
</p><p>
  She was beautiful, as always. Her hair had grown a bit longer in the last few months, sweeping heavy down to her lower back in shining streaks of ebony. It was nearly as long as his own, now kept in its old style— both for her sake and his own, a poignant reminder of his power in this era where demons lusted after the Shikon no Tama.
</p><p>
  She was nervous. He could smell her hesitation, though he couldn’t root out the source of it. Her slender fingers hooked around his knuckles as he remained motionless, frozen in the moment when she’d stopped him. After a long moment, she finally spoke.
</p><p>
  “I want to try something new.”
</p><p>
  He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved. With the way she radiated nervousness, he’d imagined something worse had been at hand. Relaxing, he let his hands fall, taking hers with them as they drifted down. 
</p><p>
  “All right.” 
</p><p>
  He waited for her to explain as she usually did, but this time no answer was immediately forthcoming. After waiting a few moments, he prompted her again, trying to stave off the worry that was threatening to return.
</p><p>
  “Izayoi?”
</p><p>
  “Uhm,” she said lamely, spurred to speak. Her eyes were on his chest, averted from his face. “I’d like you to have a turn. If you’d like.”
</p><p>
  “A turn?” Her meaning wasn’t clear. “A turn to do what?”
</p><p>
  She took a deep breath, as though preparing herself for something grand.
</p><p>
  “To take charge.”
</p><p>
  For a moment, thought ceased in Toga’s mind. Unable to string together an original sentence, he parroted her again, tilting his head. 
</p><p>
  “To take charge? In…?”
</p><p>
  His meaning, unlike hers, was clear enough. Blushing an impressive shade of red, Izayoi nodded.
</p><p>
  “If you want,” she babbled, clearly self-conscious. “It’s okay if you don’t, really, I just thought…”
</p><p>
  “Is this a trick?”
</p><p>
  It wasn’t entirely out of the question. But at the way her eyes snapped up to his, wide and surprised, he realized that not even she would try and misguide him so cruelly.
</p><p>
  “No,” she promised. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”
</p><p>
  “Hm.”
</p><p>
  With painstaking gentleness, he unwound his fingers from hers, reaching up to brush her hair over her shoulder. They were on the precipice of something dangerous. There were reasons that Izayoi chose not to relinquish her power any longer, and the validity of that had never been in question. Someone had left scars on her once. As invisible as they might be, it had never been his place to ask her to ignore them.
</p><p>
  <em>
    And yet.
  </em>
</p><p>
  Here she was, offering herself to him. Vulnerable and soft, Izayoi set aside those scars and placed her heart in his hands, just as he had done for her so many times.
</p><p>
  “Call me master,” he tried, testing the waters as he slipped his hand over her hip, touching without permission. A breath rushed out from between her lips, gentle and relieved. Euphoric.
</p><p>
  “Yes, master.” 
</p><p>
  Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning, shocking white-hot desire from his head to his toes. Toga swallowed, almost in disbelief. Did she really trust him this much?
</p><p>
  “Call me sir,” he tried again, needing confirmation that she was truly deferring to him. Izayoi smiled, encouraging him by hooking her fingers into his belt and gently tugging him closer. 
</p><p>
  “Yes, sir.” 
</p><p>
  Now her voice was merely a song he wanted to play on repeat. Emboldened, he leaned down, capturing her jaw in the cage of his claws and tilting her head up with a gentle squeeze. She gasped softly, hand flying up to clutch at his shoulders as he tugged her gently up, guiding her onto her tip-toes.  
</p><p>
  “Call me lord.” 
</p><p>
  “Yes, my lord,” she breathed.  
</p><p>
  He stole a kiss from her temple, another at her ear, traveling down until he had his lips on that sensitive spot over her pulse that she always pushed him away from. Unable to do so now, he realized why she’d always denied him; she was turning to putty in his hands, trembling like a leaf caught and battered in an eddy as he rasped his tongue across it.
</p><p>
  “Call me dearest,” he growled against her neck, and she moaned. He understood her deep fondness for that term.  
</p><p>
  “Yes, dearest.” 
</p><p>
  He nuzzled into her neck and nipped gently against her collarbone before he pulled away, squeezing her jaw again before he released her and let her back down on her heels. His other hand on her lower back kept her steady, anchoring her in place so she couldn’t sway.  
</p><p>
  “Are you sure?”  
</p><p>
  He wanted there to be no doubt. He wouldn’t begrudge her if she changed her mind. 
</p><p>
  “Yes, dearest,” she whispered, twining her arms around his neck. She was staring at his lips, but after a moment of waiting for her kiss, he realized that she couldn’t take what she wanted. For the first time, everything was his to give. His to claim. All she could do was receive and trust him to watch out for her.  
</p><p>
  He knew he could. He’d been doing it all along.  
</p><p>
  “What’s the safeword?” he demanded. She’d asked him the same question many times, most often when they were about to tread new ground. There was no better time for the reminder. 
</p><p>
  “Indigo.” 
</p><p>
  Toga smiled, dipping down to give her the kiss she so desired. Izayoi melted against his lips. 
</p><p>
  “Then call me sir,” he rumbled, stealing her breath away. 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  He meant to start gently. It wasn’t hard to guess what she expected him to do— it was clear by the way she moaned when he gathered the hair at the nape of her neck and tugged that she thought he might be rough, but he had no desire to ravish her so quickly. Stepping easily enough into his new role - into his old role, in a way, except far more enjoyable - Toga guided her back to the master bedroom, closing the door behind him with a resounding 
  <em>
    click. 
  </em>
</p><p>
  “Go on, dearest,” he teased lightly, unwinding his claws from her hair and giving her a gentle shove towards the bed. Izayoi only stumbled slightly, as poised as she could possibly be. She looked over her shoulder at him when she could, turning only slightly as she waited for clarification. “Open up the trunk.” 
</p><p>
  “Yes, sir.” 
</p><p>
  He now had the opportunity to observe someone who wasn’t actively learning their role. Izayoi looked as natural in this position as she had in her last, responding to his instructions with ease. She knelt at the large trunk at the foot of the bed and undid the lock, lifting the lid and then resting back on her heels, placing her hands on her thighs to wait for him. Toga strode over, hitching his trousers and crouching behind her as he looked in on the chest’s contents. 
</p><p>
  “What do you want me to do to you?” he asked, leaning forward and drawing her hair back over her shoulder, sweeping it all to one side of her body. He watched the small hairs on the side of her neck rise with goosebumps, the muscles beneath working in a swallow. “Show me.” 
</p><p>
  His gaze flicked back to the chest, watching her reach over into the collection of ropes, metal accessories, and silicone toys. While she chose, his thoughts wandered. He was improvising, splitting his thoughts between now and a few steps into the future. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do - it was an important skill for any warlord or politician to possess - but it did distract him for the moment.
</p><p>
  Eventually, his attention fell to a small sliver of the silver spreader bar buried at the bottom of the box. Synapses fired at lightning speed as she withdrew a purple bundle of dyed rope and sat back on her heels, oblivious to his thoughts. The bitter thought of Takemaru came to mind, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a possessive urge.  
</p><p>
  If she was giving him control, he’d do his very best to banish the memories of any other man that had come before him. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi handed him the rope and he nodded, training his expression into something impassive as he planned his strategy. Her gaze was unabashedly electric, buzzing with anticipation; but quickly, she flicked her gaze down and away in deference and respect.  
</p><p>
  Toga didn’t let himself acknowledge how attractive he thought that was.  
</p><p>
  “Spreader bar,” he ordered, unraveling the knot that bundled the ropes. It was too easy to fall back into his old, commanding ways, and easier still to find himself enjoying it.  
</p><p>
  Izayoi hesitated, just as he expected she might. Beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, her shoulders tensed, all her memories no doubt threatening to return. But Toga wouldn’t let them; he leaned in over her shoulder, lips hovering just over her ear as he soothed away her tension with bold promises. 
</p><p>
  “By the time I’m done with you,” he breathed, hot air sweeping down her cheek, “you won’t even be able to remember his name.” 
</p><p>
  She shuddered, straightening a little when she heard the gentle 
  <em>
    thud
  </em>
   of the loose ends of the rope hit the floor. Reassured, Izayoi leaned forward again and dug out the spreader bar from the very bottom of the trunk, withdrawing the accessory and sitting back on her heels again, resting it across her lap.  
</p><p>
  “Close it,” he instructed. As she did, he stood, looking down on her when her task was complete. He couldn’t help but note how perfect she looked, even though she was in such stark contrast to the woman he was used to seeing.  “Get up.”
</p><p>
  She did, holding the silver bar in both her hands and turning to him. He reached out, quickly growing tired of the fact he couldn’t see her eyes when they were downcast. Again, he gathered the hair at the nape of her neck in his claws, pulling back to arch her neck. 
</p><p>
  “Look at me.”
</p><p>
  Her auburn gaze fluttered open and up, wide eyes finally settling on him. A soft pant escaped her parted lips as he stared down at her, gaze tracing over her open mouth. He considered leaning down to wet them himself, but he was enjoying her anticipation a little too much. Instead, he released her, taking the bar from her and tossing it onto the bed behind her, freeing her hands.
</p><p>
  “Take off your shirt.”
</p><p>
  His demands were short and concise, wasting no time with posturing. Izayoi’s fingers flew to the hem of her shirt immediately, pulling up the fabric and easily yanking it over her head. She never stopped looking at him, though he had a small suspicion she didn’t appreciate how slowly he was taking this. 
</p><p>
  <em>
    Good.
  </em>
</p><p>
  Tossing her shirt to the ground, she stood before him in only her bra and skirt. He took his time admiring her, trailing his knuckles across her cheek and down to her neck, curving over the flat slope of her chest to the soft swell of her breasts. Just because he could, he pressed the peak of her nipple between his knuckle and thumb, barely hidden underneath the padding and lace. A small whimper escaped her lips at the attention, desperate and wanting.
</p><p>
  “Sir, please,” she begged softly, letting her hands float to his hips. “Please don’t tease me.”
</p><p>
  “Oh?” Toga chuckled, leaning down to brush his lips against hers, hovering just out of reach. He splayed his palm flat against her breast, squeezing firmly. “Why shouldn’t I?”
</p><p>
  She whimpered, digging her fingers into the ridges of his hips and their indigo stripes. “Sir…”
</p><p>
  “Enough.”
</p><p>
  He pulled away and she bit her lip, falling silent. With a sharp nod towards the bed, she complied with his unspoken command, letting her hands drift away from his sides as she went to sit on the edge of the mattress. Toga followed her, unlooping the loose coils of the rope he’d been holding. 
</p><p>
  “Turn around.”
</p><p>
  Izayoi turned to crawl further up onto the bed, presenting him with her back and sitting with her legs folded beneath her. Her hands fell back on her knees as his brushed over her shoulders, sweeping her hair to one side while he dragged his nails across her soft skin.
</p><p>
  “Speak up if it’s too tight,” was his only warning before his palm slid down, claws curling around her arm to guide her into the position he desired.
</p><p>
  The extent of his experience of binding others with rope was minimal. At most, he’d bound the wrists of enemies and tossed them aside. However, his horizons had since been broadened, and now he knew what she had done to him and - although he would be reluctant to admit it - what he’d recently learned from humanity’s greatest invention: the internet. 
</p><p>
  Toga took his time. He was exceedingly careful with her, and at first it was just out of an abundance of caution; however, after only a few loops of soft, dragging rope, he noticed the hitch in her breath and the occasional shiver that chased down her spine. This was exciting her.
</p><p>
  With a smirk, he decided to be more purposeful with his tenderness, sliding the smooth rope over her arms, shoulders, and ribs with frustratingly light tugs, dragging loops around her body and watching her tremble. He could hear the quickening pace of her heart and smell her sharp arousal as he continued his work, binding her arms behind her back and weaving a harness around her breasts, hitching them up and together with the added support of her bra. 
</p><p>
  When he was satisfied, he finalized the junction knot over her wrists and gave her a testing tug, smirking when she fell back against him with a small cry of surprise. Her head bounced gently against the base of his sternum, legs slipping out from underneath her as he reached around and caged her neck between his claws, barely pressing against her pulse.
</p><p>
  “I can smell that, you know,” he murmured, putting his knee up on the edge of the bed as he leaned down over her, bending her smaller form beneath his. The hand not on her neck slid down over her body, brushing against the waistband of her skirt and grazing his nails over her soft abdomen. “And I’ve barely touched you.”
</p><p>
  Izayoi bit her bottom lip, shuffling her legs a little as he slipped his fingertips underneath her clothing. “Sir,” she breathed, and Toga chuckled as he swirled his tongue over the shell of her ear, catching her earlobe between his teeth and making her whine. 
</p><p>
  “How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” he asked, pushing his hand deeper into her skirt, pressing his long fingers against the front of the undergarments that barely shielded her. “How long have you imagined what I would do to you, if you decided to submit?”
</p><p>
  Izayoi whimpered as he slid his hand over her, dipping in and pulling back, mindful of his claws as they dragged over delicate lace. The hand on her throat gripped gently, hitching her up against the wall of his chest. 
</p><p>
  “Answer me,” he growled, and she gifted him with a breathy gasp. 
</p><p>
  “Ever since—” her tongue missed a step as his fingers hooked her panties aside, exposing her to his touch as he began a slow, tantalizing rhythm. “—you grabbed him, sir.”
</p><p>
  He barked a laugh against her neck, slicking his fingers between her lips as a reward. She was nearly dripping and he was more than happy to drag that wetness all throughout her folds, spreading warmth across plush velvet. This wasn’t a prize he often got to take; when she ruled over him, it wasn’t her prerogative to allow herself to be teased.
</p><p>
  He felt her fists flex where they were trapped between her back and his chest, arms gently straining against the ropes he’d bound her with. For fun, he let his hand slide away from her neck, traveling down her chest. Teasingly, he hooked his claws over the edge of her bra, pulling down the fabric of one cup to expose her.
</p><p>
  “That long?” Toga’s fingers flitted over the blushing, budding flesh at her peak, catching her in a rolling pinch that had her arching into his touch. “I protected you, and then all you could think about was me staking my claim? Dominating you? You’re soaked, Izayoi. I barely need to do anything.”
</p><p>
  “Please—”
</p><p>
  “Don’t beg.”
</p><p>
  He bent his two fingers and pressed them into the twitching bundle of nerves at her apex, smirking as she ground into his palm. Her mouth closed at his demand, but soon her lips were parting again with a pant, her neck lolling forward as she grew distracted by his ministrations. The massage between her legs continued, exploring her reactions and the sensitive, pulsing parts of her body while the edges of his claws brushed dangerously through her slick. 
</p><p>
  “You want to belong to me?” he said, pushing back the flimsy fabric covering her other breast and leaving her fully exposed, shielded only by the skirt that was doing a very poor job of protecting her. “You want me to fuck you, Izayoi?”
</p><p>
  “Yes- Yes—”
</p><p>
  “Yes, what?” he asked, and 
  <em>
    Gods
  </em>
   did it feel good to be on the other side of this exchange.
</p><p>
  “Yes, sir,” she moaned, and then she melted with anguish when he pulled his hands out from between her legs. “No…”
</p><p>
  “Hush,” he ordered, slipping the hand from her bosom around to her back, hooking his fingers through the heavy knot above her wrists. With a tug, he used the harness to bodily move her, putting both his feet on the ground and splaying her flat on her stomach. She inhaled sharply as the rups dug into her skin - stirring other thoughts to mind - and then exhaled with a puff when her cheek hit the pillows. Toga stepped back to admire the sight. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi’s hair had fallen over her in a thin veil, draped over a canvas of fawn, blushing skin and lavender ropes that reminded him of the gentler women from her paintings. The skirt covering her rear curved scandalously, and he made no secret that he was admiring her as he held his fingers to his mouth and slowly, tauntingly, cleaned them of the gloss she’d soaked them with. Izayoi blushed so vibrantly that he couldn’t help but smirk, unabashedly proud of how lustful her expression had become.
</p><p>
  After a long moment of watching her squirm, left helpless, bereft, and wanting, Toga finally spoke.
</p><p>
  “I’m going to leave you here,” he warned, leaning over her and carefully clawing the hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. She whimpered a little, wriggling, but he shook his head at her protests. “You need me, you call me. But otherwise…” He let his hand fall to her back, sliding freely up over her rear and squeezing sharply. “Don’t fucking move.”
</p><p>
  She pouted, bottom lip petulant and plush, but she had no other choice but to obey. If she wanted to stop him - if he was pressing her too far - she had that ability. But instead, she stilled, accepting her fate.
</p><p>
  “Yes, sir.”
</p><p>
  So Toga stepped away, rewarding her with another firm squeeze that made her tense up and bite her bottom lip before he parted. He left her face down and frustrated in the pillows, letting the door stay wide open behind him - 
  <em>
    not locked
  </em>
   - when he disappeared into the penthouse.
</p><p>
  Izayoi waited in blessed anguish, but he didn’t leave her for long. He gathered what he needed from the kitchen, listening for her all the while, dialed in on the steady sound of her breathing and keeping an ear out for any spike of anxiety. Soon enough he was stepping back into the room, closing the door behind him while a gentle gust of relief swept over his lover. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the large cup he had in hand, but she didn’t dare move or speak without permission. For all he could tell, she’d obeyed; there was barely a wrinkle out of place on the sheets. 
</p><p>
  “Sit up.”
</p><p>
  She did immediately, pulling her knees underneath her and moving up with little difficulty. Her hair fell over her curves in a cruel way, hiding parts of her from view, and he made a mental note to tie it up in the future.
</p><p>
  Maybe he’d tie all of her up, in fact.
</p><p>
  Musing on that possibility for a moment, Toga began to undo the buttons of his shirt with his free hand, making no great rush to undress. Izayoi was as naked as she would get, having nothing left to cover her but ropes, the skirt he’d left her in, and the useless straps of her bra, but he still had some ways to go.
</p><p>
  Striding across the room to the bed, he placed the cup of ice on the nightstand and watched her eyes widen in anticipation. A strange urge to snap his fingers came to mind, and he took it, irritated that she’d been more drawn to dishware than to him. At the sound of his middle finger snapping against his palm, Izayoi jolted, turning her attention back to him immediately.
</p><p>
  “I’m sorry,” she blathered, seemingly as surprised by her own reaction as he was. 
</p><p>
  “Pay attention,” he ordered, stowing that information away for another time, “or I’ll have you undress me with your teeth.”
</p><p>
  It would be vengeance, in a way. She’d done the same to him. Though he imagined his belt and buckle would pose a greater challenge than her elastic waistband had.
</p><p>
  Blushing sharply, she apologized meekly. “I’m sorry, sir.”
</p><p>
  “That’s what I thought.”
</p><p>
  After that, her eyes never left him. He slowly shed his shirt and divested himself of his trousers and undergarments, more interested in watching her responses than anything else. As in times before, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, unabashedly entranced. But now that she was in his charge and not the other way around, his lazy strip tease only seemed to heighten her interest more. 
</p><p>
  When that was done, he hooked his knuckles under the ropes between her breasts and tugged her forward, crashing his mouth down on hers. Their kiss quickly grew heated, passionate as he dragged his teeth over her bottom lip, taking in every one of her desperate whines. Forbidden from begging, all she could do was arch into him with a wordless request for more.
</p><p>
  Smirking, he shoved her onto her back without warning, earning himself a sharp gasp as she tumbled down. She bounced breathily against the mattress, her hair falling in a loose onyx halo behind her as she writhed seductively, a goddess in the nude beneath him. He didn’t say anything when she said his name, climbing over her instead, caging her petite form between his arms and legs. Helping himself to the metaphorical feast, Toga left wanton kisses all over her body, nipping beside ropes and leaving red marks wherever he went. Allowing himself to indulge, he massaged one breast and sucked the other, pinning her down so she couldn’t wriggle away.
</p><p>
  He wanted her hot. Melting. He endeavored to have her on the brink, and thankfully that wasn’t a hard thing to achieve. Soon she was trembling again, arching against every flick of his tongue and grazing fang against her nipple. Once her chest was flushed and heaving, he reached down and hitched up her skirt, ruthlessly yanking her underwear down and ordering her to kick them away. She did so with no lack of enthusiasm, whimpering as his hand delved deep between her legs and returned to his cruel pleasures.
</p><p>
  When she was throbbing, he withdrew himself again, denying her the orgasm he kept edging her towards. Izayoi sobbed with frustration, twisting against her bonds until she noticed him reach over to take the cup of ice in hand. Immediately, she stilled.
</p><p>
  “Sir—” 
</p><p>
  Her voice was nothing but anticipatory, yearning to beg but denied that privilege. Smirking, he leaned down to bite a swollen mark on her collarbone and she moaned, a rasp of his tongue chasing away the sharp pain.
</p><p>
  “Quiet.”
</p><p>
  He plucked a square cube of ice from within the chilled cup, holding it to her lips. Eagerly, already shivering despite the way she was breathing heavy with want, she opened her mouth to him, letting him press the ice against her tongue. With a gentle tap to the bottom of her chin, she pressed her lips together, humming nervously. 
</p><p>
  Then he covered her eyes with a strip of silk and guided her along the path between heaven and hell.
</p><p>
  When he trailed ice across her body, he heated her with his mouth in equal strides, leaving brushstrokes of water over her curves and dabbing her skin with bruises in an artistic display. She shuddered as he peaked her nipples against ice and kissed her neck, tugging her harness just so she could feel it bite against her skin. At times, he would do nothing more than touch her, and then others he would trap cubes beneath ropes and let her shiver. Water dripped from between her lips as she tried to catch her breath between his games, but he replaced every melted piece of ice with another when they were spent, keeping an ear out to make sure she wasn’t struggling to breathe.
</p><p>
  Then, when her mouth was free again and he thought she couldn’t take anymore teasing, he caught her lips between his and shoved his tongue into her mouth, dipping his very last piece of ice fast between her legs. Immediately, she cried out with a desperate keen, arching her back and slamming her thighs shut against his hand. 
</p><p>
  It was just what he wanted. 
</p><p>
  Roughly, he pulled away, taking her blindfold with him.
</p><p>
  “What are you doing?”
</p><p>
  “Please.” She already knew she’d done wrong, voice desperate and apologetic. “I’m sorry—”
</p><p>
  With ease, he abandoned the ice wherever it decided to melt, turning his palm to push open her legs. Quaking beneath his hand, she moaned softly, still apologizing.
</p><p>
  “I’m sorry, sir, I won’t do it again, I won’t…”
</p><p>
  “Enough.”
</p><p>
  Her pleas died with a small whine as she watched him reach over to the spreader bar, left forgotten on the other side of the bed. He hushed her again, more comforting now, as he took the device in hand, undoing the clasps of its manacles. The leather padding inside the metal was soft, a dark contrast against the silver bar. This time, he wouldn’t bother with locks.
</p><p>
  “Eyes on me,” he demanded, and she flicked her gaze away from his hands and up to his face, looking a little nervous. He lifted one of her legs up, resting her ankle in the crook of his shoulder and then slipping his hand underneath her other thigh. Slowly, he dragged his hand up, sliding his palm against the soft flesh underneath as he spread her leg open at a wide angle. 
</p><p>
  Catching her gaze, he never once broke eye contact as he closed the first manacle around her ankle. Then came the next, lifted away from his opposite shoulder and clicking sharply shut around her as he braced the bar against his chest. 
</p><p>
  “You’re mine,” he told her. It was meant to be a comfort. He wanted her here with him, not lost in memory. “What should you be focusing on, Izayoi?”
</p><p>
  She swallowed dryly, and he could tell she was having a hard time keeping his gaze.
</p><p>
  “Izayoi?” he prompted, and she took a deep breath.
</p><p>
  “You.”
</p><p>
  “That’s right. Me.”
</p><p>
  Carefully, he moved himself aside so he could put her legs down on the bed, pinning one of his knees at the open cleft of her thigh when he leaned forward and held himself over her. His silver hair fell long over the top of his head and pooled on top of her black halo, swept aside to stay out of his face. 
</p><p>
  “Just me,” he insisted, dipping down to brush his lips over her ear. One hand slid to her lower back and then up, arching her against him. He kept his voice low, nearly predatory with its rasp. “You’re mine the same as I’m yours, Izayoi. Do you hear me?”
</p><p>
  She nodded helplessly, lips pressed tightly shut as her eyelids fluttered closed. They were still equal. No matter how they twisted each other up in these games, he had long since become hers, the same as she was becoming his. 
</p><p>
  “Answer me,” he growled again, pressing his knee up higher and letting her distract herself with the pressure. The vulnerability she was struggling with was a thick fog between them, but slowly, it was clearing. He wouldn’t proceed until it was gone.
</p><p>
  “I hear you,” she whispered, tipping her cheek against his. 
</p><p>
  “Say it, then.” His fangs dragged harmlessly against the shell of her ear, hot breath curling against her scalp and neck. The edges of his claws scraped dangerously against her back. “Who do you belong to?”
</p><p>
  “You,” she whispered.
</p><p>
  “Louder.”
</p><p>
  “You,” she groaned, leaning in hard against his cheekbone. “You, sir. I belong to you.”
</p><p>
  “Only me.”
</p><p>
  “Only you.”
</p><p>
  Without warning, he removed his knee from her legs and flipped her on her belly, her legs pinwheeling behind him in their forced spread. Izayoi cried out in surprise, but before she could do anything else Toga was yanking the knot of her harness to pull her up on her knees. In an instant, she would find herself with his hand around her throat and particular hardness against her back, legs forced into a dramatic spread on the sheets as he trapped her against his body.
</p><p>
  She inhaled sharply through her mouth as Toga flattened her against him, the hand on her neck tensing lightly as he reached around with the other and hiked her skirt up over her hips, slipping his fingers deep between her legs. It was no surprise to find her was wet as he’d left her before, her chest heaving gratefully now that he’d resumed his attentions. 
</p><p>
  “Sir,” she breathed, grinding down into him as he teased the area just shy of her bud. Toga watched as she tipped her head back into his shoulder, exposing her neck entirely. It was streaked with red blemishes and a few soft bites, a sight that he rewarded with yet another mark to add to their numbers. “<em>Ah—</em>” 
</p><p>
  “What should you be focusing on, Izayoi?” he asked again. Mouth open, she whimpered, and the sound was like a drug to him, adding to the ache in his groin. 
</p><p>
  “You.”
</p><p>
  How he wanted her. It was if she already lived inside of him, her story etched into his bones; a spell inscripted, a curse enacted. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her in his arms. There was nothing he wouldn’t conquer to keep her moaning, to keep her breathing, to keep her hungry heart beating. 
</p><p>
“What <em>exactly</em>?” he demanded, grounding her, reeling her into him and away from her past.
</p><p>
  “How to please you,” she said, brow furrowing as she fought through her distractions. He swirled his index finger around her core, spreading new wetness. “How to— <em>ah</em>, how to pleasure you. How to give myself… <em>oh...</em>”
</p><p>
  He could feel her throbbing, and he no longer cared what her answer was. She was back with him.
</p><p>
  “Beg,” he demanded, and whatever resolve she had left collapsed completely.
</p><p>
  “Please, please let me have you—please use me, let me take you in— oh, please, Toga— Sir, I need you, I need you, I can’t wait anymore— I’ll—”
</p><p>
  He swallowed her cries with a hungry kiss, turning her jaw with his fingers. When he slid inside her, the sound she made carved itself into his mind and made itself eternal. 
</p><p>
  “Thank you, sir,” she moaned, and the world was nothing but the two of them.
</p><p>
  Knees between hers and over the bar, he moved his hips and groaned into her neck, sliding his hand away from her legs to brace his arm against her stomach. Her breath hitched in her throat and she tipped her head back, biting down on her lip to silence her soft cries. 
</p><p>
  “Are you ready?” he rumbled, brushing his thumb over her chin. She nodded helplessly, slipping into euphoria as he shoved her forward into the bed, face sideways in the pillows as he bent her straight up into him. The sounds she made were sultry and sinful as he began his rough rhythm, her hair spilling down over her shoulders and face with every thrust. 
</p><p>
  He gripped the bonds that joined across her shoulders as she moaned loudly, more desperate now as she quaked around him, the manacles around her ankles rattling occasionally as she struggled. Careful not to bend her too harshly, he hauled her up by her ropes and held her up, angled against his hips. Her hair spilled down over her shoulders and sides, tangling over his knuckles and the ropes between them as he tugged harder. His own spilled freely over his chest, barely brushing her back where they joined. 
</p><p>
  Quickening his pace, his free hand clamped down on her hip as her moans hastened. He could see her fingers shaking where they were bound. 
</p><p>
  “Please, please, 
  <em>
    oh,
  </em>
  ” she was unraveling, drawn close to the edge, and he had no desire to pull her away from it, “Please sir, let me come, please, I— I-can’t— <em>please...</em>”
</p><p>
  Keeping his pace, feeling his own tension build and stack, throbbing near completion, he slammed down into her. 
</p><p>
  “Go ahead,” he growled. “Come for me, Izayoi.”
</p><p>
  As he said it, he remembered the sound of her voice saying those same words to him, demanding everything, and there was very little keeping him from losing himself. Izayoi, however, was already gone; she had come undone, clamping down around him in merciless waves, convulsing in shuddering whines. It wasn’t long until he took what he needed, thrusting in deep and hard a few more times before he bent over her and let himself go, lost in the sound of his name on her lips as she quivered against him.
</p><p>
  “Toga…”
</p><p>
  He held her close as his orgasm finally subsided, though every twitch of her body felt torturous until he managed to pull out. She was a shivering mess, sweat-slicked and vulnerable, still bound underneath his hand. Again, she whimpered his name, and there was something in her tone that dug into his mind and refused to let itself be ignored.
</p><p>
  “Hush,” he pulled her up gently this time, sitting back on his heels as he braced her against him. She fell completely against him, limp and helpless. “I’m here. You’re with me. You did so well, dearest. So well…”
</p><p>
  She keened weakly as he used his free hand to reach back and aside, undoing the clasps on one manacle and then the next, letting her pull her ankles free. Then he blindly and deftly undid the knots at her back, letting the ropes loosen and slide free of their own accord. With a few gentle tugs, he shed her of the rest of her clothing.
</p><p>
  “Izayoi,” he whispered, gently moving her with him as he lay down on the bed, kicking the spreader bar far aside. She collapsed into his arms, curling into him. “My Izayoi…”
</p><p>
  She nuzzled her face into his chest, twining a leg between his and her arms around his neck as she delved into his warmth. 
</p><p>
  “Are you all right?” he asked, trying to tame the mess of her hair with his fingers, carefully drawing his claws through their silken, tangled strands.
</p><p>
  “Mh-hm,” she hummed, practically sedated.
</p><p>
  “Say it out loud, dearest.”
</p><p>
  It took a moment, but soon enough she summoned her voice.
</p><p>
  “I’m all right.”
</p><p>
  He soothingly rubbed his hands over the temporary red marks the ropes had left behind, making her shiver— though the sensation seemed half-done, her muscles too lax to commit. A satisfied rumble chased through his chest into hers, soothing her soreness away.
</p><p>
  “Good girl.”
</p>
<hr/><p>
  After a few moments of basking in their glow, Toga gathered himself and hauled Izayoi’s limp body up from the bed, stealing away with her into the bathroom. Letting her drift wherever she pleased in her mind, he cleaned and dressed them both. He put her in a long shirt and sat her on the counter, taking the time to brush and braid her hair long over her shoulder before bed. 
</p><p>
  But he took her out into the living room first, setting her on the couch and summoning his pelt to his shoulders with a short, sharp burst of yoki. Peeling it away, he wrapped it around her, covering her in the massive warmth of fluff. 
</p><p>
  “What do you want to eat?” he asked, watching her take the hem in hand, staring at the fur between her fingers. Gently, she combed her nails against the edge, before eventually raising her gaze to his.
</p><p>
  “I’m not hungry,” she whispered. “I’m tired, Toga. Hold me.”
</p><p>
  He smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Pulling the fur heavier over her shoulders, he shook his head.
</p><p>
  “Food first.”
</p><p>
  She pouted, but appeared to accept her fate, curling up underneath the fur. 
</p><p>
  “I bought sushi,” she relented. “Will you eat with me?”
</p><p>
  He nodded, leaving her for only a moment to rifle through the fridge. She always kept it stocked with things he would eat while he stayed - which was mostly just raw cuts of meat - but lately, after discovering that the only human food he had any affinity for was sushi, she would order in from one of the restaurants she liked so they could the same meal eat together. 
</p><p>
  He hadn’t understood why, at first, but now he was quite fond of the idea. 
</p><p>
  Once they were done eating and he’d seen her drink at least two glasses of water, he hauled her and the pelt into his lap and held her, letting her curl up close. He didn’t want to put her in bed with the sheets still dirtied, but he also hadn’t found the time to go and change them, either. 
</p><p>
  Izayoi apparently didn’t care, more than content to lay with him here. 
</p><p>
  “Still with me?” he asked, nuzzling his nose against her temple. She nodded, nestling against him.
</p><p>
  “Mm-hm.”
</p><p>
  Barely, it seemed. He pressed his lips into her bangs before pulling back, resigned to the fact they probably wouldn’t make it back to bed tonight. 
</p><p>
  There were worse places to be. 
</p>
<hr/><p>
  In the morning, he learned she had no designs to take her power back. So, given the opportunity, he took advantage of the situation
  —
   in more ways than one.
</p><p>
  First, every rule she’d ever placed on him became hers, including her ban on shirts. Though, being the merciful man he was, he’d allowed a small amendment in her case: she was allowed a bra. It wasn’t one that did much to shield her from his gaze, of course, but it was something.
</p><p>
  Izayoi didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
</p><p>
  Second, they sat down and had a proper conversation about their changed dynamic, and exactly how long it would last. For the moment, they were both comfortable confining it to this weekend, and anything beyond that they could decide later. Just as with everything, they never rushed; at least not any faster than the already neck-break speed of their relationship.
</p><p>
  Lastly, there were all the things he wanted to do with her.
</p><p>
  Their weekends weren’t usually entirely focused on sex, but it was quickly becoming apparent that this one woud be. Izayoi had planned no outings, no dates. She’d done nothing, in fact, because she’d known she wouldn’t be the one in charge. So between the calm moments of lounging, rest, or dealing with various work-related incidences, Toga seized his moments with her.
</p><p>
  The scarlet sheets that covered the stocks and crosses were tossed aside and they reclaimed them from her past, banishing the ghosts that Takemaru had left behind as Toga learned her body in a new way, exploring that side of her that she’d kept safely locked away. She moaned and shuddered and cursed as he strapped her to the crossed beams and had his way with her, testing and teasing her with the plethora of toys they'd never had a chance to use. He put her on her knees and vibed her until she fell to pieces. She begged him to use the soft whip she'd used on him, once, and then he let her take him in her mouth like she wanted.
</p><p>
  They tested each other's new limits in careful ways, never pushing too far, and it quickly became clear that this wouldn't be the only time they switched for each other. There was too much more to learn.
</p><p>
  The next afternoon, she slept late past morning, and he slipped out of the penthouse for a time. He returned quickly enough, quietly stepping back into the bedroom to find her still sleeping. Deciding to let her be for a moment more, he took the heavy duffle bag he’d returned with and went to the center of her bedroom, where that strange sitting area had been repurposed for more intimate scenarios. While she slumbered, he looked up to the hooks embedded in the ceiling.
</p><p>
  Having now seen her bound, having moved her with ropes and watched how they made her tremble, he had a different sort of scenario planned for tonight. Reaching inside the bag, he withdrew swaths of blush silk, hooking his fingers around the heavy metal rigging they would soon be drawn through.
</p><p>
  One by one, he rigged aerial silk above his head, silent as he draped her room with sweeps of shining pink fabric. When it was done, he ran his hands through the soft sheets, testing their strength with firm tugs. He wasn’t practiced in suspending people for pleasure, but Izayoi was willing to let him try, because they both knew he could cut her down quicker than she could get hurt. 
</p><p>
  “Dearest?”
</p><p>
  His fingers twitched among the silks at the sound of his name, the peaceful silence of the room broken by Izayoi’s soft voice. Gaze shifting back to the bed, he saw her there, staring at him as he tested the bonds she certainly knew would be hers. 
</p><p>
  “How long have you been awake?” he wondered, staying where he was. She shrugged softly.
</p><p>
  “Long enough.”
</p><p>
  “Well,” his eyes glimmered and she smiled, biting her bottom lip in anticipation. “Come here, then.”
</p>
<hr/><p>
  When Izayoi was ready - teeth brushed, hair bundled, and clothes put aside - she joined him between the fluttering silks, completely nude as she reached out and touched the pink fabric. Toga worked his white sleeves up to his elbows as she tested the silk, holding it between her fingertips and running her thumbs over the sheen.
</p><p>
  “It’s soft,” she said airily, taking one of the four ends and holding it to her cheek, letting the rest of the fabric cascade alongside her into a bright pool at her feet. Toga nodded, drifting forward and putting his lips to the back of her head as one hand fell on the curve of her hip. For a moment he let her explore, touching the silks and tugging lightly, testing their strength for herself. It was only when she became playful that he said anything at all, raising an eyebrow when she enveloped her body in a silken cocoon to hide herself from him, chin sticking out demurely from the top. 
</p><p>
  “I suppose you’re ready then?”
</p><p>
  She bit her bottom lip, eyes fluttering away as a soft blush rose to her cheeks.
</p><p>
  “Where did you even get these?” she asked instead of answering, “I thought you wanted to use rope.”
</p><p>
  He shrugged, flexing one hand at his side. He reached up with the other, gathering the silk she’d put herself in by the top and gently pulling it aside, dragging it away from her body. She let it go, shivering softly at the sensation over her bare skin.
</p><p>
  “Silk seemed more fitting for you.” 
</p><p>
  That made her blush an even more impressive shade of red, though it was clear she was trying to suppress it. Toga chuckled, leaning down and tilting his head to kiss that sensitive spot on her throat. 
</p><p>
  “At least to start.” When her arms twisted around his shoulders, he let his hand slip to her lower back, pulling her in close. “Are you ready?” he asked again, the words skating over her neck and shoulders with relentless insinuation. They burrowed somewhere deep beneath her skin, spreading warmth like wildfire through her veins.
</p><p>
  “Yes, sir.”
</p>
<hr/><p>
  The sort of euphoria that overcame them was nothing like he’d ever experienced before.
</p><p>
  At first, he’d been fogged with fantasies of tying her high and ravishing her while she hung in the air, but when he actually began working— began tying, draping, and twisting silk around her legs and hips, he became far more obsessed with the feeling of her than the sex. It was a sort of dance as he tangled her up in knots, pulling and pushing against her body, feeling her sway to match his rhythm. It was another thing to hear her sharp intake of breath when he pulled her off the ground, chasing all the way down from his ears to his toes as she gave a gentle groan against gravity. He secured her where she hung, swaying in silk, breasts up and legs spread, bent back and bound on themselves to put her knees at two angled points. He had her hands joined above her head, her back arched, and she floated at waist level in front of him, draped with waterfalls of silk. 
</p><p>
  In this first pose he took the excess trails and brushed them over her body, dotting her with kisses all the while, tracing his lips over soft skin and leaving a wet trail with his tongue, chasing away the stinging pain of bites with hungry rasps. He sucked her breasts into budding points and scraped his fangs across the blushing pebbles, feasting freely. As the thick bands of silk held her aloft, too wide to dig in as sharply as rope would, Toga made her wanting, ignoring his own needs to indulge in the pleasure of just seeing her like this. She swayed and shivered and moaned, but there was nothing rough or shattering about her writhing. It was warm and intimate, all hot breath and curling toes, something soft that neither of them had expected.
</p><p>
  If he could, he’d unravel himself into the silk as well, and stay forever here with her in these moments. 
</p><p>
  When he moved her again, her knees trembled when her toes touched the ground, and he held her upright with a heavy silk between her legs, pulling up sharply into her sex. He undid knots as he kissed her, unwound bracing twists of fabric until he could bind her anew. Pushing, pulling, and swaying; back and forth, under and up, leaning to a fro until she was caught in a new spiderweb. He kissed her ear as she moaned his name, 
  <em>
    “Sir,”
  </em>
   over and over until he tipped her forward, letting the silks take her, hold her, as he pulled her back into the air. He arched her by applying more pressure to her hips and chest, letting her waist dip in a deep curve as her toes pointed up towards the ceiling, bent back in a soft imitation of a hog tie. Her wrist lay bound in the valley of her back, trapped beneath swaths of silk.
</p><p>
  This time she was at hip height, swinging herself forward so she could nuzzle her cheek against his slacks, wanting to encourage him to give her some reprieve as he slid his hands over her back and bottom in drifting, tantalizing strokes, teasing her towards oblivion when his fingers dipped farther back. Between her legs, there was nothing but warmth, but he never heated her so far that she could tumble over the edge.
</p><p>
  He punished her for her forwardness with clips on her breasts that made her cry out in sharp pain and pleasure, but then he let her have him anyway, parting his buckles so she could take him in her mouth. Back and forth she swayed, and soon he was holding her still where she floated, claws hooked around the slick fabric. She sucked, she moaned, she begged him to press in deep until he did, releasing into her when swallowed him whole. 
</p><p>
  Then he cleaned her lips, he kissed her dearly, and hauled her up higher, striding around and returning the favor in reward. 
</p><p>
  They were both panting by the time he let her down again, giving her only a moment of rest before he was twisting her for a final time, looping the silk around her legs and knees and under her rear, creating a seat that would spread her wide open when he pulled her up, leaving her front unsupported.
</p><p>
  “Hold onto me,” he rumbled in her ear, pulling her up as she clung to his shoulders, breasts and cold metal clips pillowed against his chest as she groaned, drifting in the air again. When she was steady, she twined her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat, knees shaking. He stood between her spread legs, wetting himself against her slick and she moaned, helplessly trying to swing her hips forward to find more friction. 
</p><p>
  “Please, sir, please,” she begged, and his claws dug harmlessly into her rear, pulling lightly apart through the heavy fabric. “I can’t take it anymore…”
</p><p>
  Neither could he. 
</p><p>
  He slid in deep, aching, grabbing her thighs to swing her back and forth, and when they were both spent, he pulled her down from the clouds and held her close.
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <b>Art!</b>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://kalcia.tumblr.com/post/642386341134499840/big-thank-you-to-loveyou-x3000-for-donating-to">
    
  </a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://kalcia.tumblr.com/post/642386341134499840/big-thank-you-to-loveyou-x3000-for-donating-to">Wicked Games by @kalcia</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Facing Tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With the one year anniversary of their arrangement drawing ever closer, Toga lay out on Izayoi’s living room floor one Saturday afternoon, wearing nothing but his usual sweatpants, and waited for her to return as he scrolled idly through his email. He’d tapped into a message from his wife, of all people, when a call flashed over the screen and blacked out her words.</p><p>
  <em> Sesshomaru. </em>
</p><p>He answered, and reality came crashing back down on his shoulders.</p>
<hr/><p>He loathed to tell her what he had to do.</p><p>After having to abandon the rest of the weekend abruptly, leaving with only an apologetic text message and a warning that he wouldn’t be reachable this week, he’d gone straight to his offices to try and mediate the issue at hand. There had been a genuine attempt to try and handle it remotely, but in only a matter of hours it became clear that he’d need to attend this in person.</p><p>Toran, the leader of the Hyōnekozoku, had just put down a military encroachment on her ancestral lands. One of the Devas had been mortally wounded in the conflict; her brother, Shuran, had lost an arm. That war hadn’t broken out immediately was a miracle, but it was quickly approaching. If the dispute wasn’t settled, they’d be facing the first human-yokai conflict in centuries. The Chinese government was calling for a mediator in the peace talks that were quickly devolving into threats of war, and their first choice had been him; a choice that, surprisingly, Toran had agreed to.</p><p>The bad blood between their kind was no secret. Toga had killed the King of the Hyōnekozoku ages ago, and Sesshomaru had fought alongside him in the effort. They’d been sworn enemies ever since, but in this modern day and age, such enemies merely avoided each other. Demon conflict was disastrous in the modern world, and more often than not it resulted in further issues with human relations. They spoke to each other as heads of state and nothing more.</p><p>But now it appeared he had to advocate for them.</p><p>He suspected the human government only chose him because they assumed that he would take their side as an adversary of the spotted leopards. Someone likely thought they were being very clever. At face value, it wasn’t a terrible plan. Knowing him so little, they were probably very confident they were calling a soldier to their cause, and that they’d emerge victorious. And, in not supporting Toran’s ancient claim to her resource-rich lands, he’d be ignoring that precedent that had been set centuries ago: yokai retained their rights to land in perpetuity, no matter the state of the human realm. The Japanese Government would no doubt try to encroach upon his own lands in due time, no matter how limited they were. Any land was good land— especially as untouched and undeveloped as his were. He’d left nature to its own designs, giving sanctuary to lesser demons and those who wished to live in isolation. The modern world had not touched it, leaving it lush and blessedly peaceful for those who preferred to live more privately.</p><p>The Inu no Taisho was prideful, yes, but he wasn’t <em> stupid. </em> If he had to ally with his enemies for the sake of his kind, he would. And so would they.</p><p>When he arrived on Izayoi’s doorstep on Friday evening, he rapped his knuckles against the door and waited, less excited than he usually was. She opened the door only seconds later, pulling him inside quickly and letting him close the door behind himself, clicking the lock back into place.</p><p>“Are you all right?” she asked immediately, and he smirked, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>“Good evening to you, too,” he murmured, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking his shoes aside. He didn’t move to take off his shirt, a small signal that tonight would have to be different, but he did pull off his concealment charm and shove it in his pocket. “I’m fine.”</p><p>She didn’t believe him. Izayoi took his hands in hers and squeezed gently, placing one of them on the curve of her hip before reaching up and taking his cheek in her palm. She was wearing a simple dress, and he forced the image of hiking it up around her waist away. That would have to wait.</p><p>“You can tell me,” she said, smoothing her thumb over his stripe. He tilted into her touch. “It’s been on the news, after all.”</p><p>He snorted, humorless. Still, he turned his head to kiss the heel of her palm.</p><p>“We should talk.”</p><p>Izayoi nodded, not flinching away from the subject in the slightest. Instead, she took him with her into the kitchen, keeping him close as she rifled through her cabinets. Without asking, already knowing they’d probably need to take the edge off, she poured two drinks: wine for herself and sake for him, purchased from a yokai distillery far outside the city. He recognized the seal.</p><p>“And where did you get that?” he wondered, examining the bottle after she poured his drink. She smiled, squeezing his arm lightly.</p><p>“A girl has to have some secrets, doesn’t she?” She kissed his shoulder. “C’mon.”</p><p>Leading him into the dining room, they sat across from each other at the table, wisely leaving the chair at the head of the table unoccupied. After a moment, he broke the silence between them.</p><p>“I have to leave,” he said plainly, pinning his forearms against the edge of the table, chin against his fist. “They need a mediator.”</p><p>Izayoi nodded, fingertips skittering against the base of her wine glass as she settled in her seat. She took the information in stride. “How long?”</p><p>“I can’t say. Could be a week. Could be a month.” Her lips downturned and he nodded in agreement, equally displeased. “I know. I don’t like it either. But blood’s been spilled, Izayoi. There’s no avoiding it.”</p><p>She sighed, taking a drink. He waited for her to finish.</p><p>“My wife will be coming with me,” he warned evenly. “We have to appear as a united front. For the optics.” He took a drink as well, hating the taste of that word far more than the sharp alcohol. “I can assure you she’ll hate the arrangement just as much as you do.”</p><p>Now it was Izayoi’s turn to snort softly, having little humor. But she didn’t seem overly bothered by the news, gaze pensive as she stared down into her drink. Trust won out over any jealousy.</p><p>“Is that all?”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>“I’ll have to leave my phone here. With you.”</p><p>This seemed to startle her more than anything else. She stared at him for a moment, questioning. “Why? How will I get a hold of you?”</p><p>At his flat gaze, she looked crestfallen.</p><p>“...I can’t talk to you at all, can I?”</p><p>“No,” he said, grimly apologetic. “It’s too risky. They’ll be monitoring everything I do. If they somehow got access to it…”</p><p>“We’d be found out,” she finished for him. He nodded.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, turning the power off and sliding it over to her. The black screen stared up at the ceiling, painfully impassive as her hand fell over the tempered glass.</p><p>“If there’s an emergency, use it to call Sesshomaru. He’ll have questions, but just be honest with him. Having the phone will be proof enough.”</p><p>Izayoi nodded stiffly, lips pursed in a thin line. Her nails pressed in against its sleek edges.</p><p>“When do you have to go?”</p><p>As the words left his mouth, he hated himself.</p><p>“Tonight.”</p>
<hr/><p>All they could do was make the most of the time they had left with each other.</p><p>It wasn’t what either of them wanted. Just a quick tryst, so much like their first, full of hungry kisses and hungrier hands, trying to soothe away the pain of parting. They didn’t even leave the dining room, not wanting to waste a single precious second. Toga fell into her as she arched up into him, clattering glass to the floor as she tangled herself in his limbs and his hair. They claimed what pleasure they could find in each other, desperate and broken.</p><p>When it was over, they held each other until the very last second, and then kissed at the door like they’d never see each other again.</p><p>Of all the times for Toga to realize he’d fallen in love, this was perhaps the worst.</p><p>But at least he knew.</p>
<hr/><p>A week turned into two, then three.</p><p>The mother of his son stood dutifully by his side and helped him through this horror show. She was as poised, brilliant and elegant as she had ever been, strategically impassive and stone-hearted in the face of their challenge. Tsukiko was invaluable in her wit and diplomacy, able to strike down even the most impassioned of arguments from either side and help him guide them towards resolution.</p><p>Weekly press conferences were held to update the public and, sometimes, Toga wondered if Izayoi was watching him speak.</p><p>Three weeks turned into four.</p><p>War nearly broke out twice. Toga’s threat of fighting alongside the Hyōnekozoku was all that stalled the military’s hand. He began to wear So’unga on his back to their meetings as a reminder, growing more frustrated with the stalemate with every passing day.</p><p>When he was alone, he wondered when Izayoi was doing, and often chose to stay awake instead of sleeping with empty arms.</p><p>Four weeks turned into five, then six.</p><p>In lieu of facing a contested annexation, a trade agreement was struck. The details were ironed out with ruthless efficiency, as all demonic parties refused to suffer a drawn out process, and Tsukiko traumatized a number of unfortunate assistants that had the pleasure of transcribing their discussions.</p><p>Once, after a particularly long day, Tsukiko paused at the door that separated their bedrooms and asked him why he looked so forlorn. He couldn’t find an answer for her.</p><p>Six weeks turned into seven.</p><p>Documents were drafted and ratified. Treaties were renewed, bolstered by the signing parties of a more modern era, and Toga watched as glaring politicians lost the battle they had begun. The trade agreement that had been struck was <em> heavily </em> in the favor of the leopards. Overall, they’d lost more than just face— they’d lost an entire war.</p><p>Such was the risk when facing enemies you didn’t understand.</p><p>Toga didn’t care that their strategies had failed, nor that he had sided with a sworn enemy. He cared that this was over and done, and wanted nothing more than to abandon all these imbeciles where they stood. There was no threat they could pose to him that would matter. No consequence he wouldn’t pay. There was someone waiting for him.</p><p>He wouldn’t make her wait any longer than she had to.</p><p>Seven weeks crested into eight, and finally, <em> finally</em>—</p>
<hr/><p>—It was done.</p><p>When he exited the signing ceremony with Tsukiko, she huffed softly, but he knew it was a sound of relief. Dressed in immaculate sweeps of lavender silk, she slipped her arm around his and he bent it for her, tilting his head when she moved to whisper in his ear. They took down the polished steps of the Grand Hall, away to places where they wouldn’t be seen.</p><p>“If I have to spend another moment here with you, I’m going to slaughter half the city.”</p><p>Toga chuckled, placing his hand over her manicured claws. Others milled around them as they continued on their path straight out of the building, having no interest in staying for any celebratory reception or interview. The Hyōnekozoku had retained the right to their lands and there their cooperation would end. If given the chance, Toran would still put a blade in his back to avenge her Father.</p><p>“Can I join you?”</p><p>She snorted softly, but seemed to appreciate that they shared the same sentiment. He led her safely out a back exit usually reserved for staff, immediately stepping up into the sky, abandoning human methods of travel for their own. They weren’t safe here, no matter who claimed otherwise; now that negotiations were done and neither of them had made any friends on either side of the aisle, it would be unwise for them to indulge in any promises of safe travel.</p><p>“Finally,” she breathed, rolling her shoulders as if she’d just been relieved of a large weight. Toga nodded.</p><p>“Agreed.”</p><p>They flew together, arm in arm, until they were well past the city and over international waters, keeping low enough that they wouldn’t frighten any unfortunate aviators. Then they transformed, taking to the heavens in their true forms, bounding across the open sky like the celestial creatures they were. They flew side by side until the islands came into view a few hours later, and then returned to their human forms. With little more than a look and a nod, they parted, returning to their separate lives without so much as a goodbye.</p><p>They were well past the point of needing to speak to understand each other.</p><p>Toga only went straight home because he knew he had to, unable to escape the trappings of optics and expectations. It would be more than unfortunate if someone caught sight of him going anywhere else upon returning to the country, which would quickly lead them to the reason why. There was nothing noteworthy in that tower except for Izayoi, and honestly, he’d had enough of the media for at least another century.</p><p>So he went home and did what was expected of him: he informed his publicist-assistant, Kagura, of his return and spoke face-to-face with his son, suffering through a debrief of the affairs he’d handled in his absence. Then briefly - very briefly - he addressed the mountain of emails that had stacked up over the last two months. He was able to suffer that for less than an hour before he broke, abandoning his office and taking to his apartment only long enough to find his concealment charm.</p><p>Then he rushed down the emergency stairwell, pulled the charm over his head, and disappeared into the city as his hair bled to black.</p>
<hr/><p>How long it took him to get there, he wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was that he was uncommonly anxious when he arrived, rapping his knuckles on her door with no lack of hesitation.</p><p>There was no immediate answer, so he waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>He didn’t have his phone, so he couldn’t text her. Sometimes she fell asleep early, he knew, but rarely like this. It was late, but it wasn’t <em> that </em> late.</p><p>After what he felt was an appropriate amount of time - which it likely wasn’t - Toga knocked again.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>And waited.</p><p>He shifted his weight to his other foot and kept on waiting.</p><p>Shoving his hands in his pockets, he considered knocking again, or perhaps just abandoning this avenue altogether and finding his way to her balcony. If he flew up from the street, he knew he’d be spotted, but if he went up to the roof and dropped down…</p><p>Then he heard movement behind the door, dashing his thoughts entirely.</p><p>
  <em> Izayoi. </em>
</p><p>So he knocked one last time and stepped back, content to wait a little longer.</p><p>Eventually, <em> finally</em>, the lock clicked, the handle turned, and the door opened. Izayoi stood before him, delicate fingers clutching the edge of the mahogany, eyes wide and sparkling like topaz crystals. Done with waiting, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside, already accepting the consequences as he abandoned all pretense. With a tug, his concealment charm was discarded, and then his hands were on her hips, flitting beneath the hem of soft pajamas.</p><p>“Izayoi.”</p><p>
  <em> Beloved. </em>
</p><p>He kissed her as though he’d been robbed of her for a century, pushing her back against the wall in the genkan, trapping her against his chest. She gasped into his mouth, startled, and he thought it sounded wonderful—</p><p>Until it didn’t.</p><p>Izayoi didn’t kiss him back. Her palms were flat against his chest, straining helplessly against his strength, and he only noticed because her lips tasted too sharp, too bitter. Her breath was molten in his mouth, curling strangely against his teeth, and it was enough to shock him out of his greed. Immediately he pulled away, eyes narrowing in concern.</p><p>“Izayoi?”</p><p>Her chest rose quickly as she caught her breath, fingers crinkling against his shirt. Beneath his hands, her skin was warm in a sickly way, complexion grey and pale against onyx hair. He realized in vague horror that her eyes had been glassy, not sparkling, and were ringed with heavy lines of exhaustion. She hadn’t just been holding the door; she’d been clinging to it, as she was clinging to him now, because her legs were weak. There was bile on her breath.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, more numb than anything else. She trembled lightly, swallowing to steady herself. “Izayoi? Are you all right?”</p><p>She wouldn’t look at him until he tipped her chin up, and even then her eyes were half-lidded downcast, teardrops clutching to her lashes. His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.</p><p>“Are you ill?” Gently, he brushed his knuckles along her forehead, tucking back the longer section of her bangs. She was feverish, though only slightly so. It was enough to incite panic, but he kept his fear at bay, knowing he couldn’t fall victim to it.</p><p>The guilt, however, was running wild through his veins. How long had she been like this? Suffering alone?</p><p>“No. I mean, yes, but...” sighing, she abandoned what she was trying to say and shook her head, swaying a little against his hold. Her voice was hoarse. “Toga, we need to talk.”</p><p>Feeling his heart tighten, stretched thin like a violin string, he nodded.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>Without hesitation, he slipped his hand down from her hip and around her thigh to catch behind her knees, hauling her up off the ground so she didn’t have to walk. She gave a soft sound of surprise when he did, tensing up. But she didn’t fight him, wrapping an arm around his neck to steady herself until he set her down on the couch in the living room.</p><p>“Toga, I— ”</p><p>He ignored her for the moment, summoning his pelt to his shoulders and peeling it away, offering it to her. For a long moment she just looked at it, slightly bewildered, but eventually took it between trembling fingers. As she drew one end close to her chest, he pulled the other around her shoulders, letting her gather both edges in the middle. Kneeling in front of her, he clasped his larger hands over hers.</p><p>“Can I get you anything? Water? Have you been able to eat?”</p><p>Izayoi shook her head, taking a deep breath in through her nose.</p><p>“I’m fine,” she whispered.</p><p>“You’re not.” Toga insisted. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here. Where’s your assistant? Is she here?”</p><p>“She’s not—” Izayoi swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I told her to stay away.”</p><p>“Why? Has no one been taking care of you?”</p><p>“It’s not that simple.”</p><p>His brows furrowed with light frustration, but he couldn’t be angry with her. Not when she was like this.</p><p>“Izayoi, you’re not well.”</p><p>“Please.” With the hem of the pelt at her cheeks, she curled beneath its warmth, averting her eyes. It was a plea for silence, coarse and uncharacteristically feeble. Toga steeled himself for the worst.</p><p>“Tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>It took a moment, but she did eventually make a valiant attempt to speak.</p><p>“I’m...” she began, but the attempt fell flat. Faltering, she pulled her hands away from his, curling up tighter beneath his furs as her expression closed off. Izayoi slipped into herself, retreating to somewhere he couldn’t reach.</p><p>He waited, because there was nothing else he could do.</p><p>“I’ve been sick,” she finally said, her voice incredibly quiet as she talked into his pelts. “Every morning. Every night. So I went to the doctor, and…” again, she hesitated, and all Toga could do was force himself into calm. Humans were fragile. He’d always known that. But if she'd fallen deathly ill, he’d tear apart the world to find a cure for her.</p><p>When she failed to continue, he reached out again and gently touched her cheek, wiping away a trail of tears with her thumb. It startled her slightly, but only barely.</p><p>“Whatever it is, we can face it." He was trying to comfort her, but she seemed so far away. “Just tell me. I can’t help if I don't—”</p><p>“It failed,” she blathered suddenly. He immediately fell silent. “My birth control. It failed. It slipped out of place and, uhm,” her eyes squeezed shut, closing him out completely, “It slipped and I didn’t know, and they had to take it out and I’m…“ With a shuddering breath, she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>It wasn’t what she meant to say.</p><p>Toga did nothing, said nothing. It took him a long minute to understand what she was telling him.</p><p>“Are you pregnant?”</p><p>Stiffly, she nodded. Her face was sickly pale as she tried to keep herself composed, but her eyes were glassy. Hesitant.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I really am. But I…” she bit her lip, averting her gaze. “I’ve decided I want to keep it. I want to try. I don’t want to terminate it.”</p><p>Toga could only stare at her, recognizing faintly that his brow had furrowed deeper. She’d told him once that she had a birth control implant that would last a decade, so perhaps they’d been less careful that they should have been, but…</p><p>“I would never ask you to do that.”</p><p>Her mask cracked, just slightly. Realizing all at once what had happened, Toga moved, taking her face in his hands as he unfolded and sat beside her on the couch. She’d been <em>afraid</em> of him.</p><p>“Izayoi, I would never.”</p><p>After a long moment of silence, one of her hands reached out from underneath the fur to drift up to his wrist, slipping over his knuckles to cup his hand in her palm.</p><p>“Toga…”</p><p>Not asking for permission, he gathered her up in his arms, cradling her to his chest and pulling her legs sideways across his lap. All their time apart was forgotten as he held her, as she melted against him and twisted to put her arms around his neck, holding onto him dearly. His pelt fell aside and fluffed around her waist over his legs.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Why are you apologizing?” He rubbed his hand up and down her back, reaching up with the other to brush her hair out of her face. Her cheeks were so warm. “It’s not your fault.”</p><p>Her breath puffed hot against his neck as she exhaled, a great tension leaving her shoulders as he held her. An awful feeling spread through his chest at the thought of her having to bear this secret alone.</p><p>“You’re okay with this?” she asked weakly, somewhat disbelieving. Her hold on her composure was tenuous, but she was maintaining it as well as she could.</p><p>“It’s not going to be easy,” he admitted, strategically leaving her question unanswered. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”</p><p>Izayoi took a deep breath and nodded, some more tension bleeding out of her muscles. Toga felt like he was spinning, cartwheeling forward through a rush of emotions that were both wild and dangerous, but he refused to give into any of it. She needed his calm more than he needed to process his thoughts.</p><p>“The doctor told me,” she sighed shakily, lacing the fingers of one hand loosely through his hair. “I know it’s not going to be easy. It hasn’t been.” When she laughed, it was humorless and died quickly. A sharp pang of guilt vibrated in his chest. “But... I don’t want you to feel trapped.”</p><p>“I don’t. I couldn’t. Not ever.” He kissed her forehead and was rewarded with the smallest, softest sound from her, vulnerable and impossibly gentle. “Just tell me something.”</p><p>“Anything,” she whispered.</p><p>“Why do you want to keep it?”</p><p>He had to know. It wasn’t any easy thing, carrying a hanyo. No less parenting one. And yet Izayoi had been prepared to raise it all on her own, ready to face one of the largest hurdles one could in this world completely alone.</p><p>Her brow creased for a moment, considering his question. But soon her gaze fluttered up to his, open and endless. Teetering.</p><p>“Because it’s yours."</p><p>There were a thousand other reasons wrapped up in that sentiment, but out of all of them, that was the one she wanted him to know the most. That the baby was his. <em> Theirs. </em> Her thumb traced over his markings in complete adoration, softer than it had ever been before.</p><p>“Because I love you.”</p><p>The words were said so softly, so gently, that he almost didn’t register them. They fell out of her lips and straight into his chest, down through the muscles, bone, and marrow until they tumbled into his heart, settling there, cradled among the thousands of years that had passed through him. Those words - <em> I love you </em> - carved themselves deep with piercing efficiency, as sharp as a needlepoint that was too delicate to feel. They threaded themselves there, bled out into his pulse, and after that, he was done.</p><p>She loved him, and—</p><p>“I love you, too.”</p><p>For a moment, there was only their breathing. The sound of their heartbeats, the gentle twitch of her fingers against his skin, and the open expanse of his eyes, golden and warm and eternal. The tension grew, stretched to a breaking point, drawn out between them in the wake of their confessions.</p><p>When it finally snapped, Izayoi crashed her lips on his and he fell into her in his mind, bracing her against his chest as he stole into her mouth, too hot, too warm, and tasting of sickness, but he didn’t care. He was hers, she was his, and they were here, tangled up in each other after months apart.</p><p>"Izayoi."</p><p>Though it pained him, he parted from her, pressing a few fluttering kisses along her jaw. It was with a herculean effort that he stopped himself from pushing further, wanting nothing more than to take her right now, to be with her again, but he knew he shouldn't. She wasn’t well. Resigned to that fact, he reigned himself in and nuzzled into her hair instead.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you choose,” he assured her, keeping her close.</p><p>Her breath hitched as she clung to him, shaking with relief.</p><p>“You’re not angry?”</p><p>“I’m not angry,” he said against her ear, kissing there to reassure her. “I could never be.” That didn’t mean it would be easy, however; none of this could ever be easy. There was no avoiding that fact. “But if we do this, things have to change.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“You don’t.”</p><p>Trying not to be overly grim, he pulled back so he could look her in the eye, chasing a million thoughts in his mind. There were so many possibilities to consider, each more painful and problematic than the last, and none of them were kind. Toga had no desire to frighten her, but he owed her the truth.</p><p>"There's no hiding it. You can't, with hanyo," he began to explain. "We'll have to go public. It will cause a scandal, but if it…” he paused, then started again, “...if <em> the baby’s </em> born a bastard, it only puts you both in unnecessary danger."</p><p>Izayoi's expression sobered as she listened, a sharp twist of her mouth hinting at a new wave of nausea. But she remained composed, nodding once.</p><p>"Will that be enough?"</p><p>"No." He rubbed her back, genuinely apologetic. "Nothing will ever be enough. But the safest thing to do for the both of you is to legitimize everything. Make sure you’re both protected."</p><p>"...you mean get married?"</p><p>"In a way." It was an impressively poor proposal, but she didn't seem to begrudge him for it. "I can't partake in your ceremonies. Not without making the situation worse. But what I can do— what <em>we</em> can do," he amended, watching her expression carefully, "is join as demons would. Taking you into my family would mean you'd have my wife's and my son's support, which would lessen the danger significantly."</p><p>She was silent for a moment, processing his words. He didn't rush her. Their lives were about to be nothing but rushing, racing through scandals and politics, so he wouldn't deny her these last few moments of calm.</p><p>"What do you mean, danger?" she asked, setting aside the more sensitive topic for the time being.</p><p>He tried to lay it out gently.</p><p>"You'll be seen as a weakness. Some yokai might..." he paused, correcting himself, "No, they <em>will</em> try to hurt you if I’m not near. If I didn't take you in, they could see it as a rejection— or as permission, even, and…”</p><p>Not wanting to consider that possibility, he let the thought trail away with a vague gesture. Izayoi nodded slowly, appearing to understand the gravity of the situation. Toga tried to find a silver lining for her.</p><p>"If we're quick about it, we can avoid the rumors of this being about the pregnancy, at least."</p><p>"Quick?"</p><p>"I can call my wife and have this handled tonight."</p><p>Her hands tensed and he tried to ignore his guilt, drawing her into a close embrace that she eagerly melted into. Nose buried in his chest, her shoulders rose and fell at a steady pace with her breathing.</p><p>"Forgive me," he begged gently, pressing his lips against her temple. "I never wanted to put you through something like this."</p><p>"It's not your fault."</p><p>Her arms unwound from his neck so she could wrap them around his chest, burrowing into his warmth. Regretfully, he continued speaking.</p><p>"Going out alone won't be an option anymore. Not until the baby is older. And even then… it's probably best if I start staying here. Full time."</p><p>She nodded against his skin, feeling flushed again.</p><p>"The baby…" unsure how to broach the subject, he spoke carefully. "Not all hanyo pregnancies are viable. Not all are kind. It's unlikely, but it may be born strange."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>He pulled away slightly so he could look at her again, wanting to see her face.</p><p>"You could die, Izayoi."</p><p>He would fight the Gods to bring her back, but there was no telling if he could win. It was a very real possibility that he might lose her. Mothers died far less from childbirth in this day and age, but hanyo pregnancies were far more dangerous than natural ones.</p><p>"I know." Her voice was softer this time, a little sadder, and he pulled her back in close. After a while, she spoke again, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Your family won't be angry?"</p><p>Toga shrugged with the opposite shoulder.</p><p>"If I guarantee Sesshomaru his birthrights, I imagine he'll tolerate it. My wife will be angry with me, if she’s angry at all. Not with you."</p><p>"Does she even know about me?"</p><p>"Vaguely. About as much as I know about her lovers."</p><p>Which was very little. That seemed to relax her worries slightly, though a sickly shudder interrupted the ease in her shoulders.</p><p>"You need to rest," Toga decided, wrapping his arms underneath her as he slowly stood, not wanting to jostle her into sickness. His furs clung to her of their own accord, draped over and around her legs. "We can talk about this more in the morning."</p><p>Izayoi didn't protest, curling against his chest as he smoothly moved her from one room into the next, laying her on the bed like she was made of glass. He was painstakingly careful with her, glad that she was already dressed for sleep so he didn't have to force her through the routine.</p><p>"How long has it been like this?"</p><p>Moving with quick hands, he undressed himself and grabbed his sweatpants from the nightstand drawer he'd claimed ages ago. He noticed his phone was there as well, though he didn't bother to reach for it as he stepped into his sweats.</p><p>"A few weeks," she admitted, pulling his pelt over her like a blanket. Laying down, she looked a little more stable. "It's worse in the mornings."</p><p>"I'm sorry I wasn't here." She didn't deserve to have to face this on her own.</p><p>"You couldn't have known."</p><p>When he slid into bed beside her, she scooted close, twining an arm and a leg over him to cuddle. He slipped his arm under her neck so she could put her head on his shoulder, bending it slightly to hook her close.</p><p>Fully prepared to let her drift to sleep, he allowed himself to start to slip away in his mind for a moment, closing his eyes and considering their future. The edges of his fingertips flitted lightly around the curve of her waist, reaching, but not intruding, on the plane of her stomach. There was a very subtle swell around the edges, but he didn’t tread much further in, not wanting to disturb her. Or worse, spark more illness.</p><p><em> Another child. </em>After all this time, he’d never thought he’d be facing new fatherhood again.</p><p>He dragged his fingers in a light circle across her skin, only soothing. Dipping closer in and then back out, tempering himself as he listened to the soft beat of her heart. Soon, given only a few weeks time, he knew he’d be able to hear the second.</p><p>After a while of pondering and musing to himself, Izayoi stirred and reached around, grabbing his hand. Hot breath puffed against his chest as she pulled it forward, pressing his palm flat to her belly. He startled slightly and opened his eyes, having been too distracted to realize she was awake.</p><p>Before he could say anything, she broke their gentle silence.</p><p>“...will you call her?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>Underneath his palm, a gentle swell curved his fingers. Izayoi’s hand never left his, resting softly over his knuckles. Together, they held their blessing and their curse, which was quickly becoming the most precious thing in the world.</p><p>“Your wife,” she whispered. “Will you call her?”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>So it seemed he would be a new husband, as well.</p><p>Toga kissed her crown and nodded, closing his eyes again. Soothingly, he pressed his thumb in a gentle swirl over her belly, rumbling with soft contentment as she began to relax again. He thought about reaching over to his phone and handling the situation now, but he couldn’t pull himself apart from her. For now, he decided they should enjoy what little peace they had left. Tomorrow would come when it did.</p><p>“In the morning,” he promised. “You need to rest, now.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Rest,” he said again, ignoring her protest as kindly as he could. Gently, he reached over with his free hand to tilt her chin up, planting a warm kiss on her lips. “Nothing’s going to change between now and sunrise. I promise.”</p><p>He heard her sigh, but she didn’t fight him, just returning his gentle kiss and then curling close again. However, silence refused to fall completely. Even though she did quiet for a time, it wasn’t long before she spoke again.</p><p>“Toga?”</p><p>He held in his rebukes, knowing that she was tipping towards sleep anyway. Her voice sounded distant, soft around the edges as she snuggled in closer. It wouldn’t be long, now.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>The pause stretched on so long that he thought she might’ve actually fallen asleep on him, but soon, a heartbreaking confession fell from her lips. Her hand tightened around his and he opened his eyes to the sight of her staring into the dark, eyes half-lidded and far away.</p><p>“I feel like I’m losing control.”</p><p>Those words startled him more than he’d like to admit.</p><p>
  <em> My beloved. </em>
</p><p>He knew this. He knew her. He knew what her vulnerability sounded like and he knew how to answer it, how to soothe away her hurts. Again, he reached out and tipped her chin up, catching her drifting gaze with his own.</p><p>“It’s my turn, Izayoi.” Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, then her brow, then her cheek and lips and ear. Finally, whatever wall she’d been holding up between them began to crumble, and he heard the soft whine in the back of her throat as it cracked. “Relax. I have you.”</p><p>When the tears finally began to fall, he kissed them away. All her emotions, well past overfull, spilled out between them and he held her until she was spent, trembling again in his embrace as she let go of her fear.</p><p>It was his turn to take charge now. To protect her from the world that would soon come crashing down around them.</p><p>“I have you, Izayoi.”</p><p>That, if nothing else, was true.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Part II coming Winter/Spring 2021! (Hopefully)</p><p>If you made it this far - thank you, thank you, <em>thank you!</em> I hope you enjoyed this labor of love as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was supposed to be just smut at one point, but somewhere along the line I added in all this plot. If you'd like to see it continue, just sound off and let me know. I need to focus on my other stories at the moment, but I do want to write and explore the future of these two in this AU soon :) </p><p>
  <strong>Awards!</strong>
  <br/>
  
</p><p><strong>Links:</strong><br/><a href="https://loveyou-x3000.tumblr.com/">Visit me on Tumblr</a><br/><a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/">Visit my bff @heavenin--hell on Tumblr</a><br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226637/chapters/63831763">Read The Scars We Carry</a><br/><a href="https://reflections-doujin.tumblr.com/">Read Reflections</a> (collab doujinshi w/ @heavenin--hell)</p><p><strong>Related Works (with spoilers!):</strong><br/><a href="https://loveyou-x3000.tumblr.com/post/637087723877023744/">Wicked Games: Tense</a> (SessKagu Ficlet)<br/><a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/post/632428996033904641/inu-no-taisho-modern-au">Modern Toga by @heavenin--hell</a><br/><a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/post/635160018791088128/in-the-blank-weary-afterglow-where-nothing-was">SessKagu: Be My Wife (WG: Part ??) by @heavenin--hell and @loveyou-x3000 (me, lol)</a><br/><a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/post/635092780837945344/it-takes-you-five-centuries-and-a-half-breed">SessKagu &amp; Baby Inu (WG: Part ??) by @heavenin--hell</a> <a href="https://loveyou-x3000.tumblr.com/post/635096721262854144/superpixie42-loveyou-x3000-heaveninhell"> plus some additional story lore by me!</a><br/><a href="https://heavenin--hell.tumblr.com/post/636518671673638912/i-blame-loveyou-x3000-for-everything-wicked">Baby Inu: Drawing (WG: Part ??) by @heavenin--hell</a></p><p>Make sure to check out <em>Wicked Games: Side Stories</em> while you're waiting for the sequel! It contains some short in-universe stories about other characters and some bonus scenes with Toga and Izayoi, plus more artwork from @heavenin--hell.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>